Silhouettes
by my-beautiful-decay
Summary: NM AU :: If things don't go as planned, where would your life end up? Things take a turn for the worse and Bella finds herself in a place she cannot return from; held captive by those who only wish to cause her harm. Warning; Contains abusive situations.
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

Drip…

…drip…

…drip…

The stale air permeates every surface in the dank prison. Wind rips through shallow walls chilling to the bone and causing chains to rattle helplessly against metal bars. Water filters through hollows of broken cement rolling down the already sodden brick and falling relentlessly upon a small shadow.

In the distance a heavy door slams. The shadow shakes. Chains pull upon unforgiving metal in an attempt to break free. It's futile. Shaking increases and already stunted breathing becomes more ragged, hidden behind badly placed duct tape.

Footsteps, heavy boots banging steadily upon floorboards, become closer in proximity. Another door creaks open and slams. This time it's nearer.

Just one squeak escapes. Eyes close tight; anticipating the worst. Fists clench almost in prayer as the closest door slowly opens to reveal the illuminated figure previously concealed. He pauses, not taking the first steps.

A tear falls mingling with the droplets of rain water.

He takes the step.

Chains pull harder against ravaged skin. Breathing deepens. Skin fails and tears slightly against the harsh metal of the wrist guards and allows blood, the tiniest amount, to roll down shaking arms.

One more step.

The shadow inhales deeply; taking a gulp of air allowing another small noise to escape the larynx. The ball she's in becomes as small as possible when chains prevent arms being pulled in. Head is turned against the wall; eyes still squeezed shut.

Another slow precise step is taken.

More tears fall. Legs tense underneath the tiny hunched form; pulling on yet more movement inhibiting shackles.

The door is further pushed open shedding more light upon the shadow. Another figure gently steps onto the stoned floor of the constructed jail. Two sharp breaths vibrate and are swallowed by the dark.

Pale arms seem to glow in the new light; suspended from the bars of a small caged cell in the right hand corner of the prison. The beginnings of a face are visible from this angle. The fresh scar only highlights the rest. Covered; that's the word. Some look angry, infected and sore. Some look old. All are uncared for.

She shakes at an alarming rate. A chest that should rise and fall steadily stumbles and stutters through ragged breaths. The gag, barely visible from the painful angle at which she is twisted, prevents any real intake of air. The sound of air forced through patent plastic is sharp.

There are more steps taken; this time they are less tentative and more resolved. The steps have an aim.

Movement in the cage almost ceases. She holds a breath; unwilling to make even the slightest shift that could provoke another scar. One that isn't self-imposed. Fists clench impossibly tight in an attempt to hold her slight frame steady.

Steps terminate close to their intended destination. A breath is taken in preparation for speech. One word falls from disconsolate lips and echo in the dark…

…'Bella'…


	2. Chapter 2

As with all things; we must first take a step backwards before we move forwards…

Chapter 1

"_I don't wanna be saved; I don't wanna be sober,_

_I want you on my mind; in my dreams,_

_Behind these eyes that I wanna wake up_

_No, not this time…" Halestorm – Familiar Taste of Poison._

12 Months earlier.

The flickering beams don't encourage peacefulness. They instigate apathy.

A lone door slams; a father trailing behind a daughter takes the first steps towards something new. She isn't peaceful but she's more than apathetic. The look in her father's eye is sorrow. The streets are littered with failure but this is the sort that stings the most.

Heavy steps push forward until there is no escaping their destination. Swing doors give brief glimpses of the future, she stumbles; eyes briefly making contact with the unknown world and widen infinitesimally. The looming figure of her father behind her forces her to push forward though regardless of the sudden rush of fear. This is where everything changes.

She pays no heed to the weeks of intensive therapy thrust upon her; or the loss of coherence through prescribed medication. It was so much of a blur at the time that it seems barely a dream. This is real. This is where ignorance ends and hell begins. The closing doors are louder than any explosion.

Even before taking a seat on the plastic uniform chairs in the waiting room she knows. She knows that the likelihood of her leaving this place is slim to none. It just is.

A lone tear escapes. Dripping down soft cheeks; along a slightly quivering chin and silently falling upon scuffed linoleum.

Her father silently fills out the necessary forms. Signs and dates. Sighs and rubs his temples. He is worldly enough to know how serious this is and yet naïve enough to hope she'll allow recovery. The last document sealed and this is it. Inhaling deeply he turns; walks and sits next to her. She makes no acknowledgement of this.

Raising his hand slowly, he rests it on hers for a brief moment. He never had many words. This is the only gesture left for her. He doesn't know if he'll get this again soon. She allows it, but makes no attempt to show it has affected her.

It has.

A surly nurse falls gracelessly though the nearby faux wooden door. She makes one sweeping glance of the sterile waiting room; glances down at her warn chart and reads the name off the chart. She doesn't seem to care as much as her job suggests she should.

"Isabella Swan!"

The whole room seems to take in air at the same time.

The father squeezes her hand in silent reference to the loud request. She obeys, only because she knows she has no choice. On her own or by force, she will be walking this road.

They rise together, his hand falls from hers and lands softly at her lower back in support, following slowly behind her as she makes her way over to the sealed off portion of the hospital. It looks cold; unforgiving; lonely.

In a bid to make one final parental gesture he pulls her into a hug; kisses her softly on the temple and whispers one final plea to her.

"Please…"

She swallows back the bile rising in her throat and lets her head fall gently onto his shoulder; after all shouldn't he leave this place with the smallest notion of resolution and the feeling that he has done one thing right? The lethargy is dropped for one small moment and she lets herself believe he has grasped this from her behaviour. All this in the hope that he will blame himself less as he walks back into the world, a world she is no longer a part of.

One last touch and he's gone. It's for the best they'd told him; more closure; it would allow her to accept this without dramatics.

She can smell the despair as if it clings to the walls in the thin walled corridor leading to the treatment rooms. The last vestiges of her sanity are slipping slowly through her fingers. It's as if she doesn't even want to hold onto them anymore.

Gone.

It was gone; just like he was gone. To her; that was all that mattered.

With one click the door swings shut. The finality of it rocks her. She gasps. These four walls possess her soul and own her spirit. Her eyes slam shut tightly as she attempts to hold back the barrage of tears that threaten to consume her. Her arms grapple at her stomach and she stumbles back hitting the wall with a decisive thud.

The tears come.

The room blurs.

She slides helplessly down the wall heaving and sobbing as silently as possible. The last memories of that first night are of closed doors; sealed windows; a body that won't hold itself together and a boy who is duty bound never to return.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2.

The window is cold. It's the only form of comfort this room possesses. You might think that is a strange kind of comfort; she doesn't. The therapist rambles on in the background about her lack of cooperation with the program. She only hears the tapping of her faux leather heels against cheap plastic and the clicking of enamel.

The rain starts to fall.

The sounds of the storm beating against the thin panes of glass drown out the frustrated professional sat in the corner. This only makes the cold seem more positive. She should be taking something from these sessions.

She doesn't.

Her eyes close. A chair scrapes across the floor. The door opens and slams shut. The rain outside increases. The light fades.

She thinks she may have fallen asleep briefly; but she cannot remember clearly doing so. Her head still rests haphazardly between the wall and window; the pane is no longer frosty cold more tepid with the faint mist of her breath stained across it.

There are footsteps coming closer. This does not even cause her to stir. There are always footsteps echoing through abandoned halls; no matter the time of day or night. These are different footsteps though. These have marked her as a final destination. This is unusual and yet she still fails to even raise her head.

The door glides open; her eyes close again.

It's a male. She can tell from the depth of the footfalls; too heavy to be a woman. He speaks but at first she cannot grasp what he is saying. It has been too long since she actually allowed her brain to distinguish actual words. He speaks again, there is no other movement in the room and she can tell that he won't give in easily. She was always aware there might come a day when her silence and lack of 'emotional availability' would no longer be accepted by the staff but she'd hoped it would be a little longer.

He steps closer to her. She still doesn't hear what he says although there is no other noise loud enough to block out the actual sounds falling from his lips.

He steps closer still. She opens her eyes when she feels the gentle breeze his lab coat creates with the surrounding air. She only allows her eyes to fall where her head is pointed; from here she can see shiny shoes.

When she fails to respond to the third attempt at conversation he moves impossibly closer. Her heart rate increases slightly. This is not a comfortable distance. Too close; he is way too close. She can feel his breath against her face now; her arms grip tighter around her legs and she twitches slightly as if she is trying to shrink further into herself and finally disappear for good.

He doesn't like it when she tries to move away. Reaching his hand out swiftly he grips her chin; not hard enough to bruise but not soft enough that she can pull herself away.

Her eyes close again; she takes a breath and allows a small squeak to leave her lips.

He moves his lips close to her ear which startles her more and she moves one of her hands to grapple with his on her chin.

No words are spoken and she hopes there are cameras in the room. He cannot possibly behave like this towards her no matter what; there has to be rules against it. She's panicking more now.

He whispers,

"We expect compliance Isabella. Complete compliance; this silence will –not- be tolerated. Do you understand?"

Her eyes find his. Hers are defiant; his are cold.

His grip tightens; she sobs weakly,

"Do. You. Understand? Answer me…"

More whispers. She nods which causes him to tug on her jaw,

"No; no nodding. I require an actual answer Isabella. Words."

A tear falls.

She doesn't want to speak; it isn't from defiance like he thinks.

Her breathing increases; she is shaking now. He still has hold of her, tighter still; though you wouldn't be able to tell from looking. He's prepared to wait for her answer; she presumes he will wait all night if he has to. This only makes her more unwilling to answer.

Another tear slips along with another, slightly louder, sob. She shuts her eyes tight and nods again in the hope that it will pacify him if only for the moment. It doesn't; his voice increases in severity but not volume,

"Do not play dumb with me Isabella; you won't win that battle. I want an answer from you and soon. My patience is wearing thin"

His words, clearly defined, ring in her ear and his breath lingers on her neck. She swallows thickly; her hand still gripping his wrist in the vain hope that she will be able to remove herself from this position.

"It isn't that easy. First you talk; then I leave you alone"

She shakes her head in a negative response. It isn't what he is looking for and he pulls her face level with his roughly causing her to gasp again. She tries to pull away once more as more tears fall from her eyes. She continues to shake her head; her eyes wide as her breathing increases in intensity. She hasn't yet considered the idea of giving in to him; really it should be simple. She could just allow those words to fall and he would leave her alone but she knows it wouldn't be for long.

He gradually pulls her closer until she can feel her body lifting from the windowsill. Now the hand gripping him is relieving some of the pain from his fingertips. The odds are stacked against her.

A small smile creeps across his face; it isn't a friendly one. He can tell that she is giving in. No; not giving in, giving up. There is no sound permeating the air apart from her ragged breathes.

Her eyes close and her lips open and close in preparation. At first the noises that leave her are inaudible; her throat dry from lack of use but she is determined to say at least one legible word. She needs to curl up but she knows she cannot.

He waits; his patience really is unending. She sobs more freely now her mouth is open. One more open and close before something slips,

"Yes…"

She says; but it is extremely quiet.

"Louder"

He states forcefully.

"Yes"

A little louder this time; but not loud enough for him.

"Louder! A one word answer is no longer acceptable Isabella; I want to know you hear me loud and clear"

A stifled sob breaks free from her chest; she is dangerous close to falling apart at the seams.

"Yes…please…I…I…please…"

The first broken sentence leaves her but it is far from easy. She is crying freely now; her throat closing around every gasping breath she takes. She is tired; so tired she can barely think.

"Better"

He states as he lets her face free from his fingers.

Jerking away she pushes herself back into the sill as close to the window as she can possibly get whilst forming a protective ball using her legs. He isn't yet satisfied; her compliance was in no way fast enough for his liking and he isn't willing to let her put him through this any longer.

He backs away from her but only as far as a table standing in the corner of the room. He reaches into a briefcase she was unaware had even entered the room which only proves how little attention she has been paying. He opens it and reaching in pulls out a needle filled with clear fluid.

Her eyes widen further, her breathing picks up again along with her heart rate. She is sure that he can hear every beat it makes.

He turns, with the devilish smile still displayed upon his lips, and slowly walks back towards her. She wants to move but only has the ability to shove herself further into the sill.

She hasn't been given medication this way before; ever. She's scared. Her lips quiver and fresh tears mar her face once more. Suddenly she is aware that she is shaking her head once more, silently telling him that she is unprepared to accept this and yet she knows she is not strong enough to resist. Maybe she hopes he's only trying to strike fear into her and once he knows it has worked he'll back away.

It's futile. The feeling of dread is virtually vibrating through her and he knows. He can feel it in the atmosphere like a thick cloud.

"It won't hurt"

As if this will calm her; as if.

The words do not match the look on his face; she doesn't believe him and it is almost like he was saying it for a third person and not for her. Maybe he is.

He is, however, a man on his own. He doesn't have any nurses to help hold her down if she struggles like he would usually. She's heard others screaming; she's heard the patter of feet rushing towards normally locked doors to stabilise unruly patients.

She has made one error. Her eyes close as these thoughts pass through her head; she has been so used to floating through life recently that she isn't used to having to think about her surroundings. Before she can even contemplate fighting back he is upon her. His free arm reaches across to grip the arm she holds furthest away from him and has twirled her round trapping them both across her chest and placing his palm against her mouth. She writhes helplessly flailing her legs which now face the window in an attempt to free her arms.

With his free arm he quickly injects her now closest arm with the fluid. The squeaks and gasps start to slow and her legs quickly become limp. The tears still fall.

As her body slumps against his in surrender to the drug; he loosens his grip.

"See; not so bad eh"

He whispers at her. Her mind is still coherent where her body isn't; she doesn't agree.

Using his superior strength, and now without resistance, he pulls her limp form across the room towards the barely used bed.

"I think you should sleep here tonight; I'm sure you concur"

He is mainly talking to himself now as he knows she cannot agree or disagree no matter how much she wants to, with her mouth or her limbs. Placing her on the bed he loosely arranges her and her fingers twitch slightly as if trying to pluck the sheets. Her eyes close for the final time and he takes a step back.

"Tomorrow is a new day Isabella. I trust we have an understanding now"

The needle is placed back into the briefcase; it is closed and he exits the room. The door clicks shut and it is locked. The noise is final and continues to echo though the space long after his footsteps have disappeared down the corridor.

The only sounds left are her semi silent sobs in the dark.

This is the first night she seizes awake; screaming in terror and shaking violently…


	4. Chapter 4

For the two girls who continue to be amazing; Bexy and Kate.

As always; life is rarely easy.

Chapter 3

Tense fingers grapple at sweat stained sheets; the nightmare is never ending. Lost is the grip on reality if only for a few hours but it is enough to eradicate the relief previous sleep bought. Any attempt to conceal the internal struggle is lost when sobs become louder and turn into screams.

There are hands now; too many. Before she can distinguish which are hers and which are not, a short sharp pinch is delivered and a sort of numbness spreads through her arm and into her chest. The mental anguish doesn't recede as well as the physical.

As fast as the hands appear they are gone.

The sun sets and darkness fills the deathly quiet room leaving an eerie film over every surface. The footsteps are back creeping steadily along the corridor. They pulsate in time with her heart beat building slowly in pace until they cease outside her closed and locked door. She holds her breath.

The minutes seem to tick by until the door opens.

"I hear you had a bad night Isabella; so I'll allow your missed session to slide for today"

He talks more to the chart held in his left hand than he does to her. As he scans the latest updates to her progress he walks closer to her huddled form still tangled in the generic hospital sheets. He knows the sedative must have dissipated from her system but he allows her to remain where she is; for now. Her hair covers her face and her fingers grip her knees to her chest. It is significant to him.

The pen scrawls across the paper he holds; it is the only sound that now fills the room. When he has finished he slowly closes the file and places it on her bedside table. Clasping his hands together he takes a breath. She is still unsure as to why he only comes during darkness; maybe this says something about him as a person but she doesn't have the strength to process any deeper than this.

"I would appreciate it if you would sit up when I'm about to speak you. I suspect your father would want to know we are making actual progress here and not just holing you away and feeding you medication; don't you agree?"

The air of authority in his voice tells her he is not to be messed with and she doesn't want a repeat performance of last night. She obeys, but slowly. Manoeuvring herself into a sitting position she gently twists herself round so that her legs hang limply off the bed. She keeps her head down hiding her face with her long brown tresses. The submissive pose only adds to his control.

"My nurses tell me you haven't left this room since you arrived Isabella. Do you think this is acceptable behaviour? You have been allowed some freedom have you not?"

She nods.

"What have I explained to you about lack of speech; I thought we had been clear. I will not accept nods and shakes of heads as response to me queries"

He supplies forcefully; so forcefully it makes her jerk slightly in apprehension. She did get his message; loud and clear,

"Y..yes.."

She stutters.

"Yes, what? Clearly, come on…"

"Yes…I…um; I have"

She whispers in return. He sighs in frustration.

He stands briskly from his chair causing it to scrape back severely on the linoleum. Her shoulders tense and she takes a sharp breath. The room is filled with anticipation; but there is no further movement made for a few moments. He is clearly contemplating his next move carefully and she is hoping it won't bring him physically closer.

"Is this how we are going to play this Isabella?"

She makes no move to answer. He brings himself into her visual periphery; kneeling to meet her at eye level.

"As from this moment your access to the garden is removed, do you hear me? It is out of bounds; as is the window. Come tomorrow morning I'll have someone come and place a bar over it, understand? Your therapy sessions are to take place in treatment room B down the corridor, never in this room. The outside privileges are a formality of course since you don't seem to want to wander there anyway; but this is a lesson. You must earn yourself the positives by dropping negative behaviours."

The mention of the window forces her to swallow loudly; he's taken away her sanity buffer.

"Please…"

The words leave her lips before she is able to retrain herself, now is not the time to appear even weaker in his eyes. He quirks a brow,

"Please? Please what? Have you given anything recently that deserves my willingness to even hear you out?"

Her chin quivers and she shakes her head. No; she hasn't but it still doesn't stop her from continuing. She has to try,

"Not the window; please"

Only the location he is placed in gives away the fact that she has even spoken at all, she is so quiet.

"The window goes Isabella. No dice."

He believes in his method; she must earn back the things she likes by adhering to the program he wishes her to complete. He knows that ever since she has arrived all she has done is curl up against it with her hand and face pushed up against the pane and he knows it is some form of comfort for her, but this does not change the fact that she has ignored everything else to cling to her special space and it will be tolerated no longer.

A shuddered sob leaves her fragile form as she tries to reign in her tears. Even if she wanted to she can no longer form the words to even beg. He knows he's won this round.

"So; now we have an understanding I think you should get some uninhibited rest"

He moves to get up; picking the file and wonders steadily towards the door before abruptly turning to face her once more. She glances over at him a look of mournfulness fills her features and tear tracks glisten in the shallow moonlight,

"This is for your own good Isabella; just remember that"

He is always to the point, but then he needs to be. It seems he is finished with her for the night; the only thing remaining is the clank of the door as he closes and locks it behind him.

This is all the encouragement she needs; as she rushes forward off the bed towards the sill as fast as her unsteady legs will carry her. Her hand reaches for the glass before she's even curled herself on the small wooden bench in front of it. Breathing rapidly and allowing the tears to mingle with the condensation she falls asleep here for the last time.

When she closes her eyes it is no longer glass but him. She falls but he is surrounding her.


	5. Chapter 5

Situations of emotion distress ahead. I apologise in advance.

Chapter 4

Dawn breaks; she hasn't really slept. In and out she drifted while imagining cool arms around her. With the daylight comes the fear; she doesn't know how long she has left here and she doesn't want it to end.

More and more footsteps fill the surround halls filling her with dread; when was he going to follow through on his threat?

She drifts again in and out of sleep once more.

A sudden bang thrusts her awake; two nurses stride into the room, which causes her to jerk back against the window in shock. Closing her eyes tightly she prays to some unknown entity that this is all some cruel joke and she will awake soon and they will be gone. She isn't that lucky.

One of the nurses strides purposefully in her direction. She starts to shake; attempting to push herself closer and closer to the window as if she has to protect it.

Behind the remaining nurse he stands; overseeing. She looks at him with fear in her eyes; he knows she wants to say something. He continues to stare back almost in a challenge.

"Maggie; I think Isabella may need some encouragement this morning."

He states bluntly at the closest nurse; it spurs her as she reaches across to try and pluck her out of the windowsill.

"No; please!"

She gasps; one last ditch effort to change his mind. The nurse, Maggie, is wrapping her arms around now; trapping her tight and using all her strength to pull her from the sill swiftly,

"Please….please please; no…Please!"

Her pleas are becoming as intense as is her thrusting against the brutish nurse currently blocking her attempts at escape. She is crying and begging in earnest now. He shakes his head in her general direction,

"What did I tell you yesterday Isabella? Don't make this more difficult that it needs to be; you know it will end the same"

His cold indifference only makes her reaction worse and she fights harder against the nurses steel grasp. He expected this and takes one look at the remaining nurse who knows the signal. She makes her way over; hands full with a mess of material.

Her attention pulls away from his face to glance at the nurse now making her way towards her,

"Please…I…I'll do anything; please…not the window…No!"

She begs openly; her strength waning with every pull away from her captor. Yet another failure to add to the list; it's getting long now. Struggling she watches the second nurse unravel what looks like a set of wrist restraints; it causes her eyes to widen and she stills allowing the shakes to rattle through her. He's taking control of her physically; she's never been in this position before and she's lost.

"No…no"

It falls from her lips with more force that she thought capable at this moment. Her head is agreeing with her mouth.

"I want her under control and placed in a solitary treatment room while we complete here"

He gives the direct orders to the nurses. Nurse number two is upon her with restraints firmly in her grasp; they've dealt with this kind of situation a million times before. Her hands are held together and pulled upwards while they place the first part of the shackles; securing them to her waste and adjusting them. Her eyes are squeezed shut and her chest rises and falls erratically with every uncontrollable sob.

Her arms are then drawn back down and placed into the guards; which in turn are attached to the waste portion of the shackles restricting her movements. She no longer fights against the nurses but opens her eyes and stares helplessly at the man in the long white coat who is still stood static by the door. He meets her gaze,

"Administer a sedative; I want her lucid so not too much please Maggie"

His eyes never leave hers as they real off the medical orders to the nurse; she nods in his direction.

"It's going to take a few hours to complete the work here; we must be prepared to hold her in the new cell overnight. We'll also need to rearrange the psychologist for a session as soon as possible since this is the second one she'll have missed."

Another nod from the nurses.

Their eyes are still connected. Hers filled with tears begging now; not with words but with looks and his filled, still, with cold indifference.

Her arms tug at the material holding her in place; her head shakes and her fists clench and unclench in time. She's trying so hard to project her compliance across the room to him without words; hoping so hard that he'll reconsider this one thing. He won't.

The nurses begin to take her away; she's stumbling in an attempt to keep up with their pace. They aren't about to make this easy for her. As they pass him she makes one final plea; she isn't just begging him now,

"Please…don't…"

He shakes his head,

"There are rules Isabella."

It's final. With this defining statement she is removed from the room; he follows closely behind and they deliver her quickly and efficiently into one of the closest solitary confinement rooms,

"Thank you Maggie; I'll see to it that she gets the sedative, you've done enough here for now."

The nurses both turn on their heels and leave closing the door behind them. She lies on the floor of the padded room; tears still racing down her face and sobs still rising from her chest.

He works quietly and methodically preparing the needle with the serum; she watches him. The resignation is seeping through her bones and makes her feel so heavy. He turns and returns her gaze as he manoeuvres himself back in her direction,

"I'll say this once more Isabella; I am doing this for your own good. Consider it a process of education"

She drags her eyes away from his now and pulls her arms in an attempt to curl up; forgetting about her restrictions. A sob escapes her lips and she inadvertently catches a glimpse of him in her periphery. She swears he's smirking; her eyes close again in embarrassment. This is the first moment she's glad _he _isn't here to see her like this and it stings.

Kneeling by her quivering form he administers the drug; running a cloth over the entrance mark and the slight drop of blood remaining,

"Now; I'll expect you to be in a talking mood this evening."

He's talking to his briefcase this time; she wonders for one moment why he has ceased talking to her but if it means he isn't touching her she accepts it.

Once he has finished packing up; he raises and leaves the room with no parting words.

She's woozy, but not actually willing to sleep. Her limbs are heavy with the drugs pumping through her veins though she still has enough function to allow her a view of the basic room. There is no bed; there is no furniture, simply a padded floor. Her head drops to rest against it; she swallows thickly, the act causes a hiccup through her still flowing tears.

Minutes pass.

It could have been hours.

The light dims; she doesn't move. The only hint that she is still alive is her shallow breathing.

The high window in the room doesn't allow much light in to begin with; but as dusk approaches it becomes impossibly dark. So much for the therapy session; but she's glad it never came. It's cool in here and the gentle breeze caused by the air conditioning helps to soothe her. It makes her feel like he's here even though he isn't. She knows this makes her crazy; but she's already incarcerated and restrained so she might as well let the delusion have her.

Just as she's drifting in and out of shallow sleep the door opens; he's standing in the entrance silhouetted by the light in the corridor. Maybe this means she can go back to her room now and they'll leave her alone for the night.

He makes his way into the room and closes the door. Looks like her luck hasn't changed.

"Good evening Isabella"

She swallows and looks up slightly but does not return his greeting. Her eyes are red and swollen from the amount of tears shed but he doesn't allow himself to feel any sympathy for her. At this point it is obvious that she is unwilling to engage him in idle conversation.

"If you aren't going to respond; I'd appreciate it if you'd sit up and at least allow yourself to look the part"

She flinches as he spits the last word in her direction but attempts to push herself up; this is no easy feat with her arms bound as they are. She stumbles a few times and he makes no move to touch her; for which she is grateful and eventually manages to curl up in the corner of the room. Her back leans against the wall and her legs are curled in; pressing her hands uncomfortably into her stomach. Her hair falls forward as she lowers her head.

"Today was always going to be difficult for you; how do you feel about it?"

It's as if he is reading from a script rather than asking her questions he thinks will aid her in her recovery. She doesn't answer only continues to stare down at the bottom of her assigned hospital gown.

"If you remain uncooperative, Isabella, I'll be forced to leave you in this room for longer."

Her fingers find a lose thread in the gown and she starts to pick at it. To her that doesn't seem like a terrible suggestion.

"O.K; this isn't getting us anywhere is it?"

Silence,

He starts to pace across the length of the room and back again.

"Do you want to tell me why the window was so important to you then; why the loss of it has caused you to react like this?"

He's pinching the bridge of his nose now in obvious frustration; trying to come up with a question that will either force her to move or even to answer. She continues to breathe softly; still crushed in the corner but does not seem fazed by his line of questioning.

"Do you think breaking down is a normal response for a person to have when told they cannot sit at a window?"

He sighs and takes a step towards her,

"Your father and I have had words about your insular behaviour and the events that lead to you being here; do you have anything you would like to tell me? About why you think you are here?"

Still nothing; no further movement,

"In his head his reasons were just; did you not discuss it with him before hand? He said he tried numerous ways to get you to communicate; even giving you an out just before he bought you down here, yet you did not take them. Did you even listen properly to what he had to say?"

His words are becoming sharper as his impatience at her disobedience grows. He just needs to find the right question; the question that she cannot avoid a reaction to,

"You stopped talking didn't you Isabella. That was the first thing that happened; and then you stopped eating…"

He is running through her case file out loud now from memory; the clock is ticking down,

"…just after your birthday, your father said."

She closes her eyes under the curtain of her hair; she knows where this line of enquiry is leading. She's about to lose her grip.

"There is one thing I have neglected to mention in this isn't there Isabella…"

Time is up.

"Your ex-boyfriend; Edward"

The air leaves her lungs completely and she is forced to inhale a staggered breath. He can hear her shaking from where he is stood. A small smile crosses his lips; finally he has a response. The statement is left hanging in the air and even though he was talking at a normal volume it seems like he was screaming it at her.

"So; you are paying attention then"

He's moved closer now; close enough that he can lower his voice and be confident that she is hearing him. His voice, for a second, takes on an almost cruel edge.

"I think we need to talk more about Edward; don't we Isabella"

A stifled sob breaks free from her lips and she curls up tighter. She cannot contain her reaction to his name; it hasn't been spoken aloud since he walked out of her life. The bile is rising in her throat as she lurches forward onto her knees; her hands trapped between shivering thighs, still attached to their bindings.

He watches her carefully as she continues to dry heave on the floor at his feet. He walks steadily out of the room with the intention of collecting a chair from outside; it's obvious that this isn't going to be an easy road.

As he returns; setting the small plastic chair in front of her cowering form he plans his next move. Finally her shaking begins to calm and her breathing becomes somewhat normal again.

"So, are you ready to tell me why he causes you so much agony?"

She hiccups and shakes her head,

"No isn't an option; haven't we covered this before?"

His brain is alive with activity; he knows there must be something about this situation that causes her to react so violently towards the mention of his name but what…

"Did he hurt you Isabella? Touch you? Make you feel uncomfortable?"

Her movement ceases and in a rush she hurls her response at him,

"No! Never…no…it…he; it wasn't…NO!"

She screams the last 'no'. Whether or not he did any of those things no longer matters; she'll protect him no matter what, this much is clear from her sudden outburst. He already knows what he has to do; it's protocol in this situation. He's sure no abuse has taken place but he has to be thorough.

"I have something to arrange but I will be back"

He says to her as he lifts the chair and removes it as he leaves. He needs his briefcase once more; and a nurse.

She is left to allow the darkness to consume her and although he spoke the words to inform her of his return; she heard none. Her teeth chatter uncontrollably and she grasps at the empty air with her hands occasionally catching on the material of her gown. It's a good job she didn't get anything to eat today.

The room is a blur and her ability to judge time has been completely destroyed but eventually he comes back into her cell followed, closely, by a night nurse.

"We need to move her to observation room B, please, if you could help me get her there"

He's speaking to the nurse as they make their way across the room to her still shivering form. Before she's even realised they're there she's been swept off the ground and helped through the hospital. The cooperation she gives them is minimal as she is lead through a door and placed on a new leather chair. Her feet are placed in stirrups and the nurse steps back from her.

"You'll need to fetch some more restraints; once she realises what we have to do it may cause her some distress and I don't want to have to administer another shot today"

The nurse leaves.

She's still fading in and out crippled by the earlier discussion. He knows he only has a small window of opportunity before she becomes aware and fights against them. The nurse returns and he proceeds to pin her feet to the stirrups and her chest to the chair.

She tugs on her feet,

"No…what? Please; no!"

She's filled with a fresh wave of panic; what are they doing to her and why is she so tightly bound.

"We need to be as certain as we can at this stage that you have not been a victim of abuse Isabella; do you understand me?"

A fresh round of the shakes passes through her,

"No no no…I…I…no! Please; I'm still…I haven't…please; believe me…"

She trails off into a whisper but he cannot simply accept her pleas; they've all seen the lengths victims are willing to go to cover tracks of loved ones.

"It just isn't possible at this stage for me to trust your words; I need you to understand that this needs to be done, O.K?"

She turns her head away; sobbing harshly into the leather of the chair and curling her hands into tight fists. She's close to tearing the flesh of her ravaged palms.

Her eyes slam shut and she screams loudly at the intrusion; it's brief but it stings. She's never been touched this way before and now she is crying harder at the cruel way it has been initiated. Her breathing is rushed, harsh and loud as he completes his task and places the swab into a bag.

At least he knows now.

"I'm sorry that it had to be this way"

He speaks clearly and close to her head so he knows she has heard.

"Take her back please Jill; make sure she has something to drink"

He leaves and she is untied and lead slowly back to her prison. Legs that were wobbly before are shredded, metaphorically, now as she makes her way through the door and back to her corner. The swirling blur starts again; she is forced water before she collapses.

The door slams shut and she lets out another scream gripping her stomach tightly. All that is left is the sting.

This time as she rocks in and out of sleep; she's glad to be alone.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5

The television in the room blares uncontrollably. The group surrounding it are quiet for the most part; engaged in whatever is being played on the screen at the time. She's only here because she is made to be; she never watched television when she was at home why should it change now.

There is no distinct memory but she doesn't think she's spoken for a couple of weeks. She hasn't been allowed out of solitary at night and she doesn't see it changing any time soon. Every evening he'll come and talk to her in the hope that she'll speak again; he hasn't mentioned ex relationships or the test he completed. Simply, he just turns up and talks idly until their time is up and then leaves; better to have no expectations.

The television is switched off and she is coerced to stand and walked back to her cell. Every time the door closes the four walls seem to shrink inwards; almost as if they are attempting to suffocate her.

She clambers to the corner of the room and flops down as usual; it'll only be an hour or so before the peace is interrupted.

Tonight he's playing things a little differently; he sends the nurse to collect her from the room.

As the door opens and reveals a woman she begins to worry; the nurses only come to inject her and it is never a pleasant experience.

"Doctor Sullivan will see you in his office tonight"

Her eyes land on the nurse who stands firm across by the door as she decides it's for the best to just obey the orders delivered. Standing; they make their way towards his personal space, her feet heavy.

The nurse wraps on the door and he answers in the affirmative; the nurse opens the door and she enters. The door is closed behind her. He doesn't look up from his paperwork and she stands restlessly where she arrived.

"You may take a seat Isabella; there is no need to hover over there"

She complies.

"As you may recall when we first spoke I informed you that I would not allow your sessions to take place in your room; yes?"

She nods; he's in no mood for her silence but he allows it for the moment,

"I waived that since I felt you might deal better on home turf as it were. As that is not working; I've decided to take that option off the table once more; so here we are."

His hand stills from writing; he glances in her direct to see her brown eyes fixed upon him.

"Four weeks."

She waits for him to elaborate but he doesn't,

"Do you have any idea why I say four weeks?"

She shakes her head; no, she has no idea. Once more he doesn't question her lack of spoken response. He sighs loudly and continues to write on the file in front of him; the conversation halts for the moment. Her head drops slightly allowing her hair to form the normal curtain around her face and she listens to the nib of his fountain pen scratch lightly across the paper.

"I take it you have no thoughts on this matter Isabella?"

He allows that to hang in the air for several moments before placing his pen on the desk; folding his hands together in front of him,

"Four weeks ago was the last time you actually spoke."

Her head jerks up with a look of surprise plastered upon it.

"Do you remember seeing anyone in that time? Any memories at all…"

Nothing, her mind is empty; she is sure she hasn't seen anyone other than him. The shock is evidence in her features still.

"Your father has been once a week in this time; your mother has made the journey just the once. A total of five visits in four weeks and you have no recollection of any of them"

She shakes her head once more; no, she remembers nothing of this though she is unsure how that can be so.

"I thought at first it might have been the medication causing some of the memory loss; now I'm not so sure. I'm not sure you are interested in getting better at all; are you?"

Her head stills; she doesn't know how to answer that.

He stands from his chair and turns toward the window behind his desk. Gripping his hands behind his back he takes a deep breath whilst surveying the grounds of the hospital.

"I guess not"

He mumbles almost to himself before turning on his heel and walking around his desk towards her.

"What are we going to do with you…"

He stops behind her and places his hand on her shoulder lightly; she jumps slightly at the contact and then holds herself still,

"…I've played nice with you Isabella; I've allowed you your delusions in the hopes you'd come to your senses but it doesn't appear to be getting us anywhere"

He squeezes once and releases. She tenses once more under his grasp.

"I'm going to just assume from your silence that you think your life is forfeit."

He can hear her swallow deeply as she drops her head once more in submission. He bends down and whispers in her ear quietly,

"If your life was to come close to the end right now and you had the option to beg for an alternative, would you?"

She still fails to answer.

"You mean to tell me the breakdown of your relationship has caused you to feel so much despair that you no longer wish to live?"

His words are punctuated by the movement of his hand along her shoulder towards her neck.

"Yet you have yet to make an attempt to actually take your life; what does this tell you?"

He laughs,

"It tells me that you are scared; but that you don't want to end it yourself. We've allowed you your numbness for far too long. Let today be the end of it"

She is uncomfortable at the proximity of his mouth to her ear but she doesn't move away; what use would it be. Whatever the reason he feels for invading her personal space; she knows he isn't being professional anymore. She breaks for one moment,

"Please; just leave me alone"

It isn't loud but he's close enough to catch it,

"You see; that is something I cannot do Isabella."

His voice takes on an edge; she can't detect what it is but she knows it's something dark,

"Some people don't get the choice about life over death, so you see; I have to make sure that the people under my care, who have the ability to live, do."

His hand grips tightly on her now as he moves it decisively back down her shoulder,

"As of now I shall make sure you are cohesive; I'll want to know that you are paying attention so be prepared to describe your day when you come to see me"

The end is punctuated by another grip; he expected her to use her voice to answer. She remains quiet once more,

"Do we understand each other? Hmm!"

He pinches impossibly tighter,

"Answer me!"

He snaps when she still remains unresponsive; this is the loudest he has ever been.

"Y..yes.."

She stutters, taking a deep breath. Even this one word is hard for her to release, the price she pays for the numbness is extreme fatigue under stress.

He sniggers quietly to himself,

"Good girl Isabella"

His hand drops his grip on her but he doesn't completely remove it just yet. He drags it slowly along and up towards her neck, tapping his fingers lightly there. The act is about instilling fear; it works. Her heart is pounding so hard it is difficult for her to believe that it won't soon lift from her chest.

He makes one final move closer to her before whispering,

"Let's hope we are finally on the same wave length; I would hate for us to fall back into the same routine again, wouldn't it?"

She nods and he pulls her back swiftly; his grip dangerously close to her throat,

"Wouldn't it!"

He punctuates.

"Yes Sir"

She throws out; he laughs against her.

"It's almost like you want to goad me"

He lets go now and moves back behind his desk, the smirk still painted upon his face as he picks up the receiver in front of him,

"Yes Maggie; she's ready to be collected now, thank you"

Phone placed back down he sits; regaining his professional manner. The door opens and the nurse, Maggie, strides in.

"Goodbye Isabella; I expect you'll take my advice into account."

This signifies her freedom from him so she pushes herself up and stumbles out of the room and down the corridor with Maggie on her heals. As she reaches her cell the tears start to fall; it seems all's she does recently is cry but she cannot hold it back any longer.

Back on the floor; the door closed and locked tight once more, she wonders what has become of her and what _he _would think if he could see her now,

"I'm sorry; I'm sorry…sorry…"

She whispers into the dark.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 6

"So; would you like to tell me about what you have been doing today Isabella?"

He looks pointedly at her as she sits uncomfortably in the wooden office chair. After the shaky ending to their last meeting she is careful not to aggravate him. She coughs,

"I…um; I ate"

She removes her eyes from his and focuses on the edge of his desk; she's nervous, so much so she's shaking.

"Good; more…"

She grips the arm rests and takes a deep breath,

"Sat; I um…sat in the common room…"

She trails off not really knowing what else to say; she is still having trouble remembering details but it is coming back to her; slowly.

"Did you communicate with any of the other patients whilst you were in there?"

She shakes her head lightly,

"No"

It's a whisper; but better than the simple head movements he's used to from her.

"Do you remember if anything was going on; was the television on for example?"

He is trying to assess what details she remembers from the day.

"I don't know"

She is talking at the floor; still afraid to make further eye contact with him; she's ashamed that she cannot remember simple details from only earlier in the day. The pen starts scratching; she asserts that he is writing this in her file.

"Anything else you can recall Isabella? Look at me please when we talk…"

She snaps her head up and looks at him with wide eyes; he spurs her on,

"For what length of time did you stay in the company of the others? Do you remember that?"

He drops the pen back on the desk and awaits her answer.

"N…no Sir"

She stumbles over the first word; why can't she remember; she doesn't know.

"O.K; at this precise moment I'm interested in discussing with you the limits of your memory so you don't have to strain yourself in trying to bring up all the details from the questions I ask you."

At least she is talking he thinks; no need to add to her stress by forcing her to run before she can walk. She nods and quickly rights herself,

"Yes Sir"

Placing his hands flat in front of him he continues,

"Good; I feel since this is our first…successful session; we should outline some goals for the future. They need not be huge but you don't have to stay small either. Think about what you would like to gain from me and the staff around you; but then also what you would like to achieve for yourself. Can you think of anything from the off?"

She looks down once more and starts to pluck at lose threads on her gown,

"I want to get out…"

It's said so low that he isn't sure he has heard her correctly,

"Excuse me?"

Now she's certainly embarrassed,

"N…nothing"

He can tell she is trying to backpedal; but it is too late to take it back,

"I'm afraid we are a long way from that Isabella; you've barely spoken in just over a month. I think if we are going to remain realistic you should take that off the table for the moment; do you not agree?"

This is not what she wanted to hear and she nods in acceptance but her body language does not agree with her. She's hunched more now; her face drawn. It seems she has figured out, too late, that she may actually want her freedom more than she thought.

"…but; what if…but"

His features form a disapproving look,

"This isn't the way it works you know. It is about your recovery; not about you adhering to the rules simply in order to be released"

More nodding,

"If, for example, I listed the requirements for release and you followed them to the letter…"

Taking a breath and making a pointed look in her direction,

"…it would lead to all kinds of trouble. What if you were suicidal? You'd do everything in your power to be left alone in order to complete on those thoughts, yes?"

"Yes…I…uh; I guess"

"So; then once you had fulfilled the quota for release; I would contact the specific relatives and you would be allowed to leave the facility, yes?"

She knows where he is going so she simply nods and he allows it,

"You might pretend to live successfully for a few weeks; attending sessions with an assigned therapist and doing what you can to allay any fears your parents and friends might have about you. In the end, though, all's you have managed to do is fabricate a 'normal' lifestyle and I would have facilitated that."

Reaching over he picks his pen back off the desk,

"There is never an absolutely fool proof way to ensure those who leave us are ready for that leap, but in the end, those who do manage to falsely obtain their freedom don't last long. It is our job to do the best we can to make sure your treatment here is flawless."

Her knees are now drawn up; her feet resting on the edge of the chair as she cradles herself close.

"I think we should start with something more short term; something we can deal with here on site."

Shifting she answers,

"The window…"

Without lifting her head she rocks slightly; it's obvious she is afraid of this response after his tirade on her release.

"O.K; I take from that you wish to have your window back. Firstly, you need to earn back the right to your room, do you agree?"

"Yes…yes Sir."

He finally feels like he might be getting somewhere,

"Excellent. Now we must decide on an appropriate goal to which you can work at…"

Taking his pen; he writes something down quickly on a blank piece of paper and passes it to her,

"I'd like for you to read this out for me Isabella and then tell me whether you think it is appropriate"

Her knees drop and she reaches across for the paper. Her eyebrows knit together as she reads,

"To attend two meetings a day…"

Taking a breath she glances up at him,

"Yes; go on."

"…and discuss one activity in each."

She folds the paper and places it back on the desk,

"That will take place over a week; I will expect us to hold conversations where each party takes part equally. This means you talking to me as much as I talk to you. No more one or two word answers please; I'm not expecting miracles but I know you are capable."

Reaching across the table and grasping the paper she has folded; he places it in her file,

"I'm putting it in here so we can refer back to it at the beginning of every new session. I'm only saying twice a day for the moment since your memory isn't so good. We don't want to set you goals and see you fail."

She nods in acceptance,

"What…what about…um…the window?"

Bringing his hands up; resting his elbows on the desk and leaning his chin against his palms he looks her dead in the eye,

"I thought we were taking this one step at a time Isabella?"

Twisting her fingers together between her knees she nods whispering once more,

"I know."

"If we try and assign you too many active goals you are setting yourself up for an early defeat. This is the one thing we might have to delve deeper into, the on duty therapist also agrees with me, so it won't be an easy road. If you really want to know I will tell you; but it won't be as simple as turning up to sessions."

"Please…I want to know"

He shakes his head; who knows how this could end,

"You'll need to explain to me why is has such an importance, firstly."

At this she swallows loudly,

"Firstly?"

"Yes, firstly, this isn't a simple process. We'll also need to have words about the relationship you had with Edward."

He can feel the atmosphere in the room alter in an instant. She gets up quickly sending the small chair scraping across the floor,

"I want to go now."

Her speech is rushed and she's starting to panic.

"I'd like for you to sit down Isabella."

Her head is shaking briskly back and forwards as the tears spring in her eyes. Her feet are carrying her back towards the door,

"Isabella…"

He warns as she continues to break down before his eyes,

"I need you to take a deep breath, stop walking towards the exit and sit back down please."

The words seemingly go over her head; her eyes are not focused, it's like she is not even in the room anymore. He sees no other option as he rises from his desk. As he walks around her she makes no move in acknowledgement of his approach. Placing his hands on her arms her movement ceases; he grips a little and brings his mouth close to her ear,

"I'd like for you to remember where you are Isabella; you need to sit back down."

She pushes back against him; he can feel her breathing rate increasing. He does not allow himself to move; instead he pushes her forward, his strength far outweighing hers.

"You need to pick the chair up now."

Every word punctuated by a slight increase in pressure upon her arms,

"Now, Isabella. Please"

He's becoming agitated by her lack of cooperation. He steps aside leaving one hand on her arm and picks the chair up; replacing it to its previous position. He then proceeds to bring her round using a little force before sitting her back down,

"Now; you'll remain there. If you attempt to leave before I release you again I will restrain you."

Leaving her hunched form; he walks back around to face her,

"We have a little problem here don't we. Seems like the one thing you need to discuss with us is the one thing you are having difficulty dealing with, emotionally. Well; until we can delve into this, there will be no spending countless hours by the window."

Understanding flickers in her eyes and she stands once more and races at the door as fast as her legs will carry her,

"No! I want to leave!"

She sobs whilst falling to her knees by the locked office door. He's on the phone; quickly trying to get a nurse with a sedative. Pushing himself forward after connecting, he picks her up from behind; holding her flailing arms against her chest; he unlocks the door in preparation,

"The longer you keep this up; the less likely it will be that you'll ever get back into your old room, let alone having access to the window seat."

He states calmly; she's hyperventilating now but he has a close hold on her. The last thing she remembers before hearing the door open is his threats; she doesn't know if she'll ever be able to hear _his _name said aloud without breaking down.

As quickly as it started it is all over; they have her pinned as they inject the serum and she loses consciousness on the floor of the vast doctor's office.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 7

The sedatives make her dream of _him._

"Are you aware you've begun talking in your sleep more?"

The therapist continues to address her; unaware that her mind isn't on the task. She's been coming here a few times she thinks but she has yet to say a word.

Her tongue feels huge in her mouth and she is so incredibly drowsy. There was probably a warning about this when they abruptly changed her medication; but as always she allowed it to all pass by her. The pills come with a name almost as long as the list of possible side effects and are hoisted at her severely at ungodly hours of the morning; it's all about routine, apparently.

"You've been talking about him more you know…"

At least she has the decency not to mention his name; they appear to have learnt their lessons from the last few occasions that happened.

"Do you remember any of them?"

She propositions carefully; it's as if she is dealing with a wounded wild animal, one that could dart at any moment.

One head shake; it's more than she's given anyone else in the last few sessions; apart from painful sobs on occasion.

"Are you sure about that Isabella?"

His voice invades the room; she shrinks back against the wall in response. They've taken to conducting the sessions back in solitary since she hasn't really been up to moving. Today the wrist restraints are back on; last night wasn't a good night.

One step forward ten steps back, he thinks to himself but doesn't allow himself to voice it. It won't matter to him for much longer; his thoughts become smug.

"I see we're back to not talking again."

At this she turns to face the wall. She's curled up uncomfortably on the crude mattress they had placed in the ill-equipped room.

She isn't willing to give any more today; they know it would be futile to even attempt it. The therapist closes her file and quietly leaves the room; he follows quickly behind and closes the door tightly.

The deadly silence is something she never tires of. At least it doesn't suffocate her with unending questions. She does remember the dream last night; in Technicolor, she just isn't willing to relive it out loud to anyone.

Happy or sad they all make her heart break all over again and last night was no different. The cool temperature of the room doesn't help either. She often closes her eyes to find _him _wrapped around her; so tight it's as if they're one person.

They're all real memories; possibly distorted over time but real none the less. She remembers the kisses best of all; they're the parts that make the rest of the dream worthwhile. Still as soft and gentle as snowdrops falling fresh on the ground yet full of passion; a passion that slowly bought her to life in a new way.

As always; after the good memories come the bad. Alone never felt so raw.

To have it all ripped away; to feel so utterly lost and confined, it's all so annihilating emotionally and physically.

As she closes her eyes in an attempt at sleep hewraps his presence around her heart once more. She cannot work out when he became so utterly tied to her, but she isn't willing to let him go either. Most nights when he appears to her he simply sits and they are silent. Occasionally he will be closer; but usually there is a distance between them. Tonight she is sure she can feel his hands over hers; this is the closest she has ever felt him. She wonders, briefly, if this could be significant.

Her heart beats harder in her chest; the air vibrates around her and a shiver passes down her spine. It's as if his whole body is moulded to hers; her breathing spikes and she lightly moans his name. It's an accident and it hits her ears hard. This time his shadow doesn't leave hers. She can finally cope with hearing it without breaking down; it's a revelation.

The prickles of cool air roll down her neck; she imagines he's there peppering tiny kisses against her raised skin. It causes her hands to clench in their shackles,

"Please…"

She whispers carefully; though why she is begging she does not know.

Outside the corridor lights dim ever so slightly, their buzzing halting briefly before completely ceasing only moments later. It should be disconcerting; but she isn't paying attention to anything outside of her created delusion.

Suddenly the illuminated glow in the room is extinguished by the power failure in the hall. There is a small click that signifies the loss of light and at that moment everything seems to quiet.

Through the darkness; at the end of the long winding corridor the footsteps begin their journey into the hospital.

Even if she had noticed it wouldn't have mattered; her fate has already been decided.


	9. Chapter 9

For when life gets that little bit worse; chocolate.

I said earlier in this little story that life is rarely easy. This will come into play a lot now over several chapters. Taken partly from a real biography I read; all will be explained…ye be warned…

Chapter 8

The extreme quiet; it's the calm before the storm.

As the door slams open there is no chance for a reaction. The strange men are across the room and have her encased before she can even lift her head in acknowledgement of their arrival. She feels a sharp pinch, an injection, her arms are already restrained; they are thankful their orders were followed efficiently.

Their plan continues succinctly. Her mouth is covered and her eyes are blocked by a blindfold as her body starts to go limp from the drugs. Her breathing is ragged and her body is almost convulsing. The blindfold, in seconds, is soaked in her scared tears.

She can no longer feel her body; she thinks she might be sick. The air flows beneath her as her captors hoist her from the small bed.

Everything is wrong; time no longer makes sense. She hopes it was all a terrible dream; just a mistake. She blacks out.

Toes; she can feel them. The cold is seeping through her bones.

This cold isn't the good kind.

Trying to move isn't a success but she's still shaking. She isn't sure how any of this correlates; she didn't think it was possible but she feels sicker.

There's a bump before she passes out once more.

She awakens for the second time to dry heaving; her body is trying to expel the nothing she holds within her.

She can't breathe through the gag; the panic rises in her chest.

She'd have heard them had she not been overrun with terror; they're contemplating ways to silence her.

Breathe, heave and cry.

It becomes a pattern that she cannot escape from. She still can only feel her toes and the cold; she's colder than she's ever been before.

She wishes she'd actually had the last kiss her fantasy had bestowed upon her only hours before.

His face is the last one she sees before her body shuts down once more.

A door slams loudly as the voices dim.

She can feel her arm; just the one. It's bound more tightly than before; well, she thinks it is. She can't be sure; in all honesty she cannot be sure of anything at the moment apart from the ill feeling in her stomach.

Her heart might be about to jump out of her chest; it's causing her ribs to convulse painfully. Not enough air is reaching her lungs.

She tries to tug at her bindings but her other arm just won't cooperate.

Her eyes are so sore beneath the blindfold; she's too heavily bound and it feels so claustrophobic.

If he knew; would he come? She wonders.

She is consumed by the blackness once more.

The men are back but they are still stationary; she doesn't even know if they've moved into a different location though the ground below her still feels the same, she thinks.

She feels the earth move; no, not the earth, the vehicle. She thinks they must be in some kind of van.

Her spine feels less like jelly; her stomach is still churning away and her lungs are burning.

She does something she's never done before; she prays.

Someone's touching her; she's instantly aware and it doesn't feel good.

One finger running down her arm; it makes her heart rate spike and a cold sweat runs down her spine.

"You are a pretty one aren't you…"

He drawls in her ear; his voice is rough and has a slight New York lilt to it.

Half of her body doesn't belong to her still and she's trussed up so close that it wouldn't matter if it did.

She tries to shake her head and move away from him; but it isn't easy and he senses this is what she is trying to achieve. He grabs her arm; hard.

"There will be no running away where you're going missy"

He's laughing as he thrusts his body closer to hers; he's too hot, way too hot. She needs to get away from him; she cannot allow herself to panic when she can't breathe properly.

A sob escapes through the ragged material as he grips at her arm; it's right on the same part of her arm that the doctor had hold of her and it causes it to sting and throb.

"They're going to have some fun with you"

He pushes her away; sniggering to himself and she's left alone once more.

She cries out; it should be loud but it is smothered by the gag for which she is glad. Her body obeys her order to curl in and she shakes and cries.

It's the uncertainty that nags at her now; what do they want with her? Where are they taking her? How can she take anymore? The universe doesn't answer.

Trying to hold back the bile her stomach wishes to release is hurting more and more but she knows she cannot throw up whilst she's gagged.

For the second time she prays.

The brakes slam causing the tyres to screech against the asphalt. Her body rolls and hits something hard.

Suddenly there are too many hands; pulling and gripping whilst lifting her. They aren't careful about it and she squirms in response. They pull her tighter and her feet hit the floor. They don't give her time to adjust and stand before they're dragging her along with them; their pace is much stronger than hers.

Her body caves and allows them their abuse.

The air is stale and the floor is damp; the walls echo with their footsteps. She's chained somewhere; she can hear them clinking.

She hits the floor before she's even noticed they've released her.

"I'm sure you'll want to behave; there are no cameras here to protect you"

This is another voice; not the same as the man before. He sounds well spoken; she's sure he isn't one of the heavies.

The floor here is concrete and somewhere close there has to be a leaky pipe; she can hear the water dripping down the walls coating the floor. Her head flops forward in complete defeat.

This time the quiet is deafening. The dark consumes her once more.

Powerful large hands tear her from the ground; she wasn't even aware she'd slept. Roughly she's pushed into a sitting position against the wall and her blindfold removed hastily. He's covered himself well; the mask gives her no indication of who he is and she allows the tears the flow freely down her cheeks now there is nothing stopping them.

"You'll listen and you'll listen well"

He spits; kneeling in front of her and gripping her chin fiercely,

"From now on you don't exist. Believe me when I say; nobody is looking for you"

He sniggers pulling her forward slightly,

"…and even if they were; they would never find you. Look around you…"

His free hand sweeps the room as if pointing it out to her,

"…this will be your new home for now; this is luxury trust me. When you are called for we will remove you to a more permanent location; but that, of course, all depends on who wants you."

Her eyes widen as it suddenly all dawns on her and she shakes her head rapidly breaking free of his grip briefly; a tiny squeak escapes. His hand reaches for her face once more and pulls her even closer whilst whispering threateningly,

"This is the end of the line for 'no'; so don't get any ideas about disobedience. I wouldn't want to see the consequences of that; most buyers don't take well to insolence"

Laughing he drops her face and stands ready to leave the small prison,

"Pretty girls can find themselves in all kinds of bad, bad situations; I'm afraid you found the worst"

The door slams behind him; the finality of it shakes her to the core.

She's about to be sold off to the highest bidder.

A.N – The best way to explain this is in the form of the film 'Taken'; if you require a link of sorts. This is and always will be a Twi fic.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 9

There is no light here; she doesn't know what time it is or even how long she's been here. The sick feeling in her stomach hasn't left her and she doesn't think she'll ever be warm again.

Her eyes do not have the ability to focus on anything in the pitch black; they might as well have left the blindfold on.

The steady drips of the water falling down the brick work might slowly send her insane; if that doesn't the silence will.

….

The only certainty is that time is passing.

The dampness is encroaching on her slowly but surely. The floor was always tainted with the fowl liquid but now it steadily reaching where she is positioned.

She's only just regained all feeling; only for the damp to join the cold and take it all away once more.

Her toes are the first to fall to this.

…

They enter the cell slowly; she can smell food.

The first man is armed with what looks like more wrist bindings; she eyes them suspiciously as they make their way towards her. Her eyes slam shut in the hopes that she can make this all go away.

Her body is pulled from against the wall and her arms thrust above her head. They are chaining her against the wall now; it all happens quickly and methodically. She's now positioned on her knees; back resting slightly against the cold brick with her arms laced heavily above her head.

"Wouldn't want you trying to escape now; would we"

One of them laughs in her direction; her eyes are still shut tight.

"We've been told to feed you; so I don't want any trouble"

The gag is removed as he makes his statement and something warm and salty is forced into her mouth. The spoon the rank soup rests on is so rusty she can still taste it when it is taken from her.

"Swallow!"

She obeys and she is fed like this for several moments,

"That's enough"

A familiar voice grunts from across the room; she doesn't even open her eyes to try and identify it, she just wants them gone.

The gag is replaced; tighter this time and she gasps in surprise. Another shot is administered and she tries to pull her arm away forgetting, briefly, that they are restrained above her.

The last thing she hears is the slamming of the thick metal door. The whole room is spinning and the food sits heavily in her tummy. The ability to focus evades her and occasionally she opens her eyes to try and gain a grasp of something real but she fails.

She loses the fight to stay conscious.

…

Her arms tug painfully above her and where she rests on her knees aches and throbs. The muscles in her chest are contracting at an alarming rate as she tries, helplessly, to bring in oxygen through the dank material that blocks her mouth. The tear tracks laid earlier down her dirty face are reignited as she breaks down once more.

Whatever drug they've pumped into her veins is making her heart pound horribly and her eyes are blood shot and sore.

Her head drops and she allows her chin to rest on her shaking chest. Her eyes close once more as she gives up trying to see past the blur.

…

They return to feed her twice more; it's the same acrid soup on the same tainted spoon. She doesn't fight them; the compliance she shows doesn't even register with her captors as they continue to roughly handle her. She's sure by now she is covered in bruises where they've gripped her.

…

The shakes increase causes her to become lucid once more; her chains rattle and her breathing becomes uneven and jagged.

Her hearing is faltering along with her sight; everything appears tinny and even the echoes of the water appear distant and yet close all at the same time. The ability to place herself somewhere real is lost and she's suddenly floating. Floating and shaking; it isn't a good combination. She is sure that her ability to hold back the convulsions her stomach wants to make; with the swill still sloshing about inside her, she is sure that the vomiting will follow.

Her mouth clamps shut behind the gag as she breathes deeply through her nose; survival instinct has kicked in. The lack of air and the highly anxious state she finds herself in isn't conducive to consciousness and she passes out yet again.

…

The dream jerks her awake and she feels something sticky roll down her arm; she turns her head slightly to see a small red line make a stunted journey along her skin. Pulling on the bindings has cut into her.

"I was wondering when you'd finally grace us with your presence"

His voice cuts through the darkness and her head swings back forward to try and identify him. It is too dark; like trying to see through tar.

She hears his laughter; it's sinister and chills her,

"You see; I have a little something to explain to you."

The voice is so familiar yet she's not quite been able to place it,

"Oh come on Isabella"

He sniggers,

"Don't tell me you've forgotten who I am already; I am disappointed. I thought we had such a…_strong_…bond"

She catches the way he says her name; like a blinding flash in the dark she remembers her time with him at the hospital. His eyes aren't inhibited by any illicit substances and he sees the recognition and fear in her eyes; he laughs once more,

"See; now that wasn't so difficult was it."

A form appears to be closing in on her; though she is still having difficulty focusing. He must be moving closer,

"Let's get to the point shall we; though it shouldn't come as a surprise to you…since I discussed it with you only a few days ago…"

Closer still,

"…but you never did pay attention to the important things did you? Well; no matter, not now anyway. "

She can't see it but he rolls his eyes at her ignorance,

"Your father's unfortunate disappearance led to a lack of payment Isabella; like I explained to you before. It is regrettable; but not for me. You see; I have a…"

The pause allows him to consider how he can describe this acquaintance,

"…_friend_…yes; I suppose that's an ok term, who was in need of a favour. This is where you come in."

His finger reaches out and runs slowly down her face; there is no room for her to recoil away from him. Her breath halts,

"Nobody will notice that you are missing; not a resident who's treatment has not been funded. I can simply explain it away by saying that I moved you to a government funded hospice awaiting help there."

Softly he brushes a tear away from her face,

"It isn't like you wanted help is it Isabella? You never responded well to, how shall we say, _gentle_ techniques provided for us by the mental health board…"

His head shakes while he laughs to himself,

"…so; this brings us to the present. My deal with your captor will take you away from all of that; maybe some roughing up will help you to understand some things. Or maybe not; either way it is out of my hands now. Just one thing; they won't accept your none conformity to their rules. There will be no hiding away and praying for isolation. Enjoy the silence while it last Isabella."

These are his parting words; his hand drops from her face and his steady gait is heard pounding away until the door slams shut once more and the quiet appears once more.

Her father is missing? It rolls around in her head. How could she have missed that; how?

Her wrists pull more against the guards that hold her; she knows it's a futile attempt at freedom but to sit and do nothing would eat away at her even more. She sobs loudly; calling out into her cell. The chains rattle loudly drowning out the stifled sobs ripping from her chest. The tears cascade now; falling freely as she thrusts her head back against the wall that holds her steady. If only she could get free, she contemplates; she could try and find him.

Her cries go unheard. Trying to break free is tiresome and she soon loses momentum; her whole body finally falling limp against the squalid brick. The air whooshes out of her as she makes contact and her head falls forward.

The 'if only' thoughts rattle around in her brain as she slides into the abyss.


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 10

There's nothing now; the endless clink of the chains and the monotonous drip of the water bounce through her mind but they are merely sounds lost in time.

Eventually the time has come and she is pulled from her temporary hell. She has no fight left in her as they drag her harshly down from the shackles that bind her to the cold prison. The blindfold is placed over her eyes once more; though she doubts she'd be able to logically place where she was if they were to leave her vision unimpaired.

She's injected once more before being lifted and walked forward; everything about the journey to vehicle is stunted. Her head feels like it's on fire and her stomach turns on itself over and over until she's sure she is about to pass out.

Her feet give out half way up a flight of stairs and she is hoisted roughly the final few. The skin on her knees is scraped and battered by the concrete of the last step but the tornado forcing its way through her brain stops any ability she may have once had to pull them out of the firing line.

The cold wind hits as she is pulled into the world once more and she is dropped to rest on her knees besides something cold and hard; she summarises that is must be the van but doesn't move any further to inspect with any more of herself.

The shackles on her wrists are unclasped for a short moment while they rearrange her arms to fold behind her resting on her lower back before reattaching them closely.

The sound of a door opening triggers her panic; this is it, once she moves away from this place there is no knowing where she could end up and nobody will have a trace on her.

She notices a difference in how they are handling her; but it is too late when she realises that they are not placing her into the back of the van she came in, no, this time she is being lifted into the boot of a car. Fear lances through her and she struggles quickly; lashing out with her legs. They are surprised; she had been so compliant until now, but she is still too weak to gain any power over them and they regain their hold whilst dropping her briskly into the shallow boot.

She cries out on impact but they pay her no heed.

The boot is slammed shut and she cries out as loudly as she can manage through the gag whilst kicking the trunk with her bare feet. There is pain; a sharp licking pain to her calves and she stills long enough to note that the boot has been re-opened. They are not impressed with her sudden volatile behaviour,

"Don't!"

A man whispers harshly in her ear as he pulls her head up by her hair; she yelps in surprise,

"Make so much noise! There is no point in this fighting…you'd better be quiet; else you'll feel another whipping girl!"

He lets he go as sharply as he pulled her and she hits the base of the trunk once more; curling herself into a tiny ball with her legs huddled under her as far as they will go she shivers and waits. Eventually they are satisfied that she will be of no further problem and close the boot door once more.

The engine purrs to life and she is jerked against a side of the small space as the car takes off into the night.

She is more aware now than ever that an entity of greater power watching over them is a myth; but she prays once more. This time she prays to _him._

I know you don't love me; but please, pretty please, help me. Find me.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 11

The drugs she was slipped must have caused her to fall deeper than she originally thought. When she finally awakens she is no longer in the moving car; but lying prostate on a soiled, damp mattress. Unlike last time the blindfold remains firmly tied over her eyes and her hands behind her back; she already hates the smell of the room.

She has no idea how long she is left; but suddenly she is aware of another presence surrounding her,

"Well; it seems you are alive after all"

He rasps; she can hear his heavy boots shifting over the wooden floor. The click of his fingers echoes,

"You can remove all of this; it isn't like she's going anywhere fast"

With his command she feels hands suddenly removing all of her bindings. As the gag is lifted from her lips she gasps heavily; filling her lungs as fast as she can. Next go the wrist guards and lastly the blindfold; at this she bolts upright pushing herself against the closest wall, her eyes dart around the room as she tries desperately to get a grip on her surroundings.

When she finally glances up and lays eyes on him she knows; she doesn't know how, she just does. He isn't going to be nice to her.

The grin on his face is full of malice.

"Consider this your new home Isabella; you should know one thing, there is no escape from this space. Not now; not ever. You belong to me and I have no inclination to allow you any sort of freedom."

Her eyes drop from his and she curls her legs up once more and wraps her arms around them; she's holding herself together physically and mentally with all she has left in her,

"I was informed that you have no issue with silence; your doctor was quite adamant that you prefer not to speak. I expect you to continue with this, since you know it so well…"

His words are sharp; it's a threat. The venomous lilt to his speech flows through her like it's trying to attach itself to the very fabric of her being,

"LOOK AT ME WHILST I'M SPEAKING TO YOU!"

He pelts at her; she jumps and her arms fall out to catch her against the hardwood floor. She complies as quickly as she is able; looking up at him with wide eyed fear,

"You…"

He points directly at her,

"…are here for _my _pleasure Isabella; mine and whomever I decide might benefit from it; but it is all in my control. Do you understand me?"

The clouding in her brain covers enough of his words so that she is free to answer without falling too heavily into panic; she nods in acquiescence.

"Good. I won't ask your permission and I damn sure do not expect any insolence or disobedience; anything I consider to be as such will be punished, severely."

Her teeth begin to chatter under the sheer force of her shudders but she holds back the tears of horror that lie behind her eyes. There is a fleeting moment where she hopes that his tirade is merely an act; and that he does not, in fact, intend to touch her or harm her physically; but she knows she is only lying to herself.

"For now; I'd get some rest. You work on my time; if I require the use of you, you'll be prepared to comply with my request. Welcome to my home Isabella."

With this he turns on his heel swiftly followed by the men at his side and she is left once more alone and cold in another locked room.

…

The room is separated in two. The bars through the middle are also parted by what looks like a velvet curtain. She is trapped on the sparsely furnished portion; the second half, though, is not comforting.

The layout suggests its use for her will not be a pleasurable one. There is a bed; an eloquent layout filled with pillows and assorted cushions as well as a wall filled with chains and various restraining implements. Her eyes adjust to the small amount of light filtering through the sealed door; another windowless room, she assesses. There is a trunk at the base of the bed fitted with a heavy padlock.

Her breathing is reaching a rapid rate and she cannot seem to stem the panic rising in her heart. The poison he verbally unleashed earlier still pounds like oil through her veins; he used the words '_for my pleasure' _she recalls perfectly; his pleasure. She doesn't want to contemplate the depths of his depravity; but the cordoned off portion of her cell screams it at her.

She swiftly turns her back on it all; hoping above anything else that she will never encounter a need to be in that side of the prison.

The tears are tumbling down her face once again as she stumbles along the length of the room; pacing is freeing in a way. The movement stops her brain from focusing too hard on anything horrifying.

This side of the room has little more than the squalid mattress she found herself on earlier; it is smaller and slightly damper. She's like a caged deer; frightened and ready to make a run for it at any given moment. Although she knows she would be silly to even attempt it; the loss of the chains has given her a courage she never thought she would have again.

…

The pacing is beginning to wear her down; she falters in her steps more now but the fear and adrenaline pumping through her keep her active and on her feet. Hours must have passed; she doesn't even know what time of day it is. She doesn't even know how long she has been away from the hospital. She hopes that somebody is aware she is missing.

There is absolutely no sound here like the other place; no footsteps ring down the halls. The silence is powerful. Her back slams against the bars in the centre of the cell and she falls slowly towards the grim floor; her legs feel hollow and she is suddenly so weary; she can't remember the last time she had anything in her stomach.

As the hours continue to wear on; her eyes droop. Her arms are shaking now; lack of water and the onset of dehydration causing her to hallucinate. The walls no longer seem like walls and the floor seems unstable beneath her feet.

She closes her eyes to stop the spinning.

…

When her eyes open once more; stale bread and a glass of water are resting by her side against the other side of the bars. Someone has been in to feed her. She suspects that there may still be residue of the last shot in her body which is causing her belly to react badly to the thought of food; but she is too hungry to contemplate it for long.

Guzzling the water greedily; she then moves on to the bread.

More hours pass but at least she feels more stable now than before.

Her eyes feel heavy; the room is gradually getting colder and she curls up on the floor rather than the mattress to sleep.

…

Above her; in a room placed strategically for their benefit, two men sit and watch her fall into oblivion. Their intentions are less than honourable; if only she knew the fate that had befallen some of the others to pass through these halls, they think, she wouldn't be so easy to fall into a slumber.


	13. Chapter 13

I promise this is as painful and graphic as it gets. Please read with caution.

…

Chapter 12

It seemed like weeks passed without her seeing a single person. She was fed and watered regularly; but they only ever entered her cell when she was fully asleep. She was foolishly becoming complacent.

She could barely remember the first terrifying moments of her entrance here; the cruel words that had been spoken had faded from her memory and she was quickly becoming accustomed to her surroundings. It was still cold and dank; but the hope that she might ever encounter life again was also dissipating from her thoughts.

She ate and slept; she dreamt, mostly about _him, _and she forced herself to use the crude toilet she had located hidden to the left of her small bed. She hoped that her father was alive.

The bruises and marks left from her previous ordeal had almost fully healed and she found she had more comprehension than she had been able to muster in the hospital; but this allowed her to dwell on her future. Her brain was active whilst free from the drugs that had previously inhibited it and she wondered why she was still being kept here; why nobody had since come forward.

…

She would look back upon this moment in the future and know that she had been naïve to think that they were not monitoring her every move.

…

The door slams against the wall briskly and the two men enter her small room. She scuttles to her feet as her body reacts for flight or fight; she has no idea what to expect. One of them is her owner; her brain thinks the word automatically, she has no other way to describe what he is to her, her captor maybe; or even jailer would be a better word. Either way she remembers, be it dimly, that he is not pleasant.

Her heart rate increases and her chest rises harshly to accommodate the change; he can smell her fear,

"Good morning Isabella; it's nice to see you again"

She dips her head to stare at the floor; she's sure 'nice' isn't the term she would use if asked. The other man settles a small bag on the floor; he looks semi-professional, as much as one can in such circumstances. He removes a smaller bag from within the larger one; it is black and solid looking.

With this the two men start to advance upon her small cage; she responds by moving backwards until she comes into contact with the wall. The inner cell door slowly swings open; her head remains dipped but she pays attention to their every movement.

"Now now Isabella; there will be no escaping this; just sit quietly and it'll be over soon."

He reaches over quickly and grips her round the back of her neck pulling her with great force towards him; his mouth hovers over her ear,

"We just want to look at you…properly"

He whispers,

"Keep quiet; keep still and it'll be over before you know it. Painless, Isabella."

Somehow she doesn't believe his words; his voice is laced with falsities. She has no choice, though, whether or not to obey.

The second man removes official looking equipment from his bag and she stands as still as she can watching him take note of her heart rate before he places the stethoscope back into the pouch and continues to check her mouth and ears for any signs, she presumes, of disease or decay. He finishes his task quickly and she begins to relax; her neck is still gripped by his large hand. After he proceeds to saunter out of the cell,

"She is in good health Sir; nothing seems amiss."

The small bag is placed back into the larger one and he collects himself ready to leave; he captor makes no moves to join him,

"Thank you doctor; if you could just see Smith on your way up, I believe he has a question"

"Sir."

With that he leaves; she doesn't feel easy about being in the room with him alone.

"Well; that leaves the official medical out of the way. Now I have to check you over for myself…"

He allows the sentence to hang in the air and it creates the exact response he is looking for. She immediately goes to pull away from him; knowing that was it to come will be in no way pleasant. Faster than she thought possible he grabs her arms and pushes her forcefully against the hard wall,

"Oh no Isabella; where do you think you're going?"

The words are filled with hate as they spill from his lips; he's pushing her harder now with his arm pulling hers above her head and his full body pressed against her small figure. She trembles; closing her eyes and twisting her head away from him. She can hear rustling but is unwilling to open her eyes and instead opts for trying to pull her arms away from his binding hands.

While she isn't looking he is deftly undoing a length of rope he had hidden in a back pocket; he is much stronger than she thought he might be and her wrists remain locked beneath him,

"No!"

She cries out suddenly; she is panicked that she's unable to move him. He laughs,

"No? I was unaware you had an opinion; did I allow you one?"

"P…please; get…get off me!"

In no mood for any of her pleas; he quickly slams her once more back against the wall. His hands make fast work of the rope and he binds her tightly and pulls it through a metal loop above her head which has been driven into the brick work.

Her eyes fly open and she tugs helplessly on her new bindings; flailing around in a bid for freedom.

"Did you not hear me mention when you first arrived Isabella; you are for _my _pleasure. Your wishes are no longer valid, your body and mind belong to _me._"

He removes his belt slowly; it's the way he wants this to work. Tell her with words; then show her with actions. She is silent once more whilst he takes great pleasure in assessing her rise in fear,

"You will accept your punishment for speaking out of turn and then; then we shall continue with my assessment of you."

Gripping the belt at either ends and pulling it in slowly he slaps the air making a ringing sound clatter through the cell; she holds her breath and allows the tears to fall heavily.

The first one comes quickly; he lets go of one end of the belt and pulls it back unleashing it, painfully, upon her thighs. She jumps and cries out when the leather makes first contact and her feet buckle slightly from under her.

"First act of insolence Isabella; I am disappointed. Now; count!"

He stipulates.

She opens and closes her mouth; trying desperately to make the number come but she fails. He doesn't accept failure. The belt hits and burns against her once more; this time across her stomach making her writhe more and scream out, a little louder this time.

"Count! I will not ask again!"

His tone is clipped; she responds,

"ONE!"

It's jagged and breathy as she lies winded against the solid wall once more. He laughs wickedly at her error,

"I think you missed one; unless of course you cannot count…"

It makes contact again; this time across her chest and collar bone. The angry red mark rises suddenly against her skin and she sobs, brokenly, her head pushing back against the brick.

"Two…t..three"

She finally makes it back on track and he takes a step to the side as if inspecting her.

"Better; forget counting now"

Before she can make sense of this the belt comes down heavily across her torso on several occasions before her cries and sobs fill the room. When he feels sufficiently sated he allows the weapon to fall to the ground and he rocks back on his heels; he's achieved what he needed to, her fear has returned tenfold.

She hopes and prays that he is done with her; he is not.

"What I really came here for was to make sure my purchase was as detailed; you know how it is these days don't you Isabella. Too many lies; too much corruption. I wouldn't want to find you lacking"  
>Her head is pounding and she can only hear parts of his speech through her cries; but before she has time to register his presence he has ripped her gown off in one fluid movement. She's bare underneath.<p>

This isn't how this was supposed to go; she cannot focus at all now. The throbbing in her joints and on her skin is nothing to the crawling dread that it currently making its way up her spine. Her bound arms stop her from covering her modesty as he takes a step back to take a better look.

"No…n…no…p…please…!"

The fear stops her speech from coming out coherently but she pushes it from her chest in an attempt to get him to listen. She feels violated; standing there naked in front of a strange man.

The cruel smile that returns to his face is enough to freeze the blood in her veins; he slowly removes the tie from around his neck and walks steadily towards her,

"You seem to be under the misapprehension that you are free; you…"

He points with the tie wrapped partially around his pointer finger at her,

"…are not free."

She continues to mumble her protests as he tightly covers her mouth with the material as she squirms against him. His hand slips from its position close to her face along her neck; down her collar bone before coming to rest just above her naked breast,

"It's all mine now."

After having her eyes glued to him this whole time she closes them once more; allowing a sob to break free. She turns her head away from his as she tries to block out his digits rolling over her once untouched skin.

This is not how this was supposed to go.

All at once there is too much; his hands are too warm and they are everywhere. She tries so hard to concentrate on the feel of the sharp brick behind her; letting the tears come so fast that she could no longer see if she wanted to.

This time she is lucky.

He lets her hands down when he has completed his inspection and she collapses to the floor. He leaves her hands bound in front of her; why create more work for next time, he thinks. The tie stays also; when she has regained some poise she'll take that from her mouth herself. He covers her in a blanket but does not clothe her; nor does he leave anything for her to cover up with later.

"Be thankful that I was told the truth about your condition Isabella; I'd have hated for this to turn…nasty."

He states as he closes the door behind him and leaves her draped tightly on the floor.

With her eyes screwed shut she closes herself off for the last time; they can have her body but she will not allow them her mind.


	14. Chapter 14

For Squally.

…

Chapter 13

The curtains between the cells remain closed permanently now. She faces away from it with her back to the bars; her eyes only hold focus on the terracotta brick in front of her. The blanket covers her form enough to hide her away.

The ropes have long since been removed; she takes the sedative pills they leave for her without argument. The leather burns mar her flesh where she attempted to resist this previously. She learnt quickly that there would be no denying; so she complies.

Pulling the cloth tighter she huddles as far under it as she can get; protecting herself as much as she can from the chill. She never anticipates sleeping through, no; they've been known to interrupt her at any given moment.

Tonight is one of those nights; not that she knows whether it is actually day or night, she just estimates.

The door swings open and the inner barrier is removed and the bars clink open,

"You've been doing very well Isabella; I'm impressed"

Something hits the floor beside her but she has yet to rise from her bed,

"Let's not ruin our good run; now get up and put this on please."

She waits to hear him leave before she pulls herself up into a sitting position and inspects what he has left for her. It is a simple linen dress; but it's clothing for which she is grateful. She dresses before pulling herself from the bed and walks slowly towards the open door.

When she peeks out of her cell to the other portion of the room there is nobody in sight; her heart begins to beat faster. The door into the corridor has been left ajar.

Hastily she pulls back into her half and leans her back against the bars; her eyes close. She'll give it a minute. He has to return; this has to be a trap. Doesn't it?

There is still no sound; she gradually peaks back around the bars. Nothing.

Her breathing accelerates as she contemplates; there is a niggling at the back of her mind though. She takes her first step back out into the more furnished section of the room and slowly progresses towards the door. There are no sounds at all bouncing around the halls; no sound but her steady heart and stunted breaths.

Her fingers reach for the open door with caution as she brings her head around it to glance into the dark corridor. Still nothing.

This is it; she knows that this decision will change it all. She could make it through; if she can get to an exit she is sure she can make it away from here. Her feet start to shuffle as if in preparation and her fingers grip the edge of the door tighter and tighter still. All that it would take for her to reconsider is a single sound; one noise that implies there is someone around and that her escape will be prohibited. It doesn't come.

Still the silence remains; she crosses the line.

Her first foot plants on the concrete floor of the hall; it's now or never. Her second foot joins the first and she is fully stood outside of her cell uninhibited for the first time. Now is not the time for her to relish this fact though; for all she knows she has limited time before someone returns to find her missing.

Feet move faster against the damn cold of the corridor as she moves to navigate the maze that is set out before her. Nothing seems to make sense and she becomes more panicked over time; she cannot find an exit and if she doesn't find one soon she fears she will run out of time.

…

Little does she know; in a room not so far from her two men sit and oversee her daring escape. She's going nowhere fast and they know it; but they are impressed at the short space of time it took her to garner the courage to leave the room. She'll pay for her insubordination soon; first they wish to have some fun.

…

There is a door; light is pouring under it, the type of light that reignites her hope in freedom. Her caution still remains and she approaches tentatively. Placing her ear upon the wood she listens hoping to work out what lies behind the think door; nothing so much as clinks. She pushes gently; looking inside to find a small lounge area. It is devoid of life but there is a large bay window; quickly she stumbles across the floor too glance out over the grounds. She can see the length of the house from here; it is massive.

She is currently on the first floor; trying the window in the hope that she can open it wide enough to climb out she pushes gently on the wood after compressing the metal handle. Nothing; it's locked. She tries once more; her hope faltering when it continues to hold tight.

A footstep falls close by; she's sure of it. Her breath is held in her chest; there are two more clicks on the floor in the hall but then silence returns. She stays as still as possible just behind the window. As she glimpses to her right she sees another exit from the room and she quietly creeps towards it.

More footsteps; they're making their way down towards the room now. She makes a fast decision to risk getting through the door in the hopes that is will lead her closer to an exit. Ripping open the door and stepping through before closing it behind her she sees another long hall way leading to two doors this time.

She stops to listen for one moment before deciding to waste no more time.

The door is picks is random; behind it the light blinds her briefly before she notices a wide stair case leading to a large ornate oak door; he heart pounds an unruly beat in her chest and she blinks rapidly before throwing herself down the carpeted staircase.

She is so close now; so close she can feel the fresh air. The sun is streaming through the glass sitting either side of the door and she can see the plant swaying in the breeze. She has never wanted something so much as this.

At the bottom of the stairs she takes a few quick glances around her; still nothing. She's so close that she can almost smell the wood of the door. As she reaches for the knob she pulls and pushes against it with all her might before two strong arms encase her against it. Her whole body ceases any movement and a sob escapes her throat.

"Going somewhere Isabella?"

He's playing with her; he knows damn well that she's trying to go somewhere. Her hand grips the knob tightly; still hoping that she can push it open and fall from his grasp. He laughs loudly now,

"You'll find that door is fastened securely; go on, try all you want."

It's a challenge; she drops her hand to rest at her side.

"There was me thinking we were doing so well; have we done something to cause you to want to leave Isabella?"

His hands move to cover hers and he pulls her back sharply,

"Did I give you permission to leave your cell, hmm?"

She suspects he doesn't require an answer to his queries,

"Please…"  
>Begging helplessly she tugs her wrists away from him and he lets them go.<p>

She takes a step away from him and collapses to her knees; leaning her head against the door she starts to quietly sob. He takes a step back from her hunched form and places his hands on his hips,

"Now; what would you suggest is an apt punishment for your insolence?"

There is a moment of silence; the clock in the background ticks away the seconds and she takes in all she can of the gardens beyond the rippled glass through her watery tears.

"Please…I…I just…five minutes…please"

He knows she's talking about going outside; he laughs once more,

"You are asking me…for a favour; after you attempted to run away?"

Her hand reaches forward and she places it on the glass; the warmth feels soothing for a moment against her chilled skin. He allows it once more; he knows that once she's had this the chances of her ever seeing daylight again are slim. This causes him to smile wickedly; she's fallen right into his trap and he releases the words she's been dreading,

"Time's up Isabella."


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 14

She jumps up and thrusts herself at the front door; banging and screaming with all her might. She's loud; so loud she cannot hear him laughing at her weak attempts. Walking forward he grips her tightly pulling her away from the door,

"I hope you enjoyed your brief glimpse of sunshine Isabella; time to go back home now don't you think"

The tone of his voice suggests enjoyment; he's getting a thrill from her agony,

"No! No! Let me go…p…please! No!"

Struggling harder against him she throws all of her weight around roughly; his grip tightens causing her to cry out,

"No…you…you can't d…do this…No!"

Her protests are echoing down the empty corridors of the entrance to the mansion; legs thrashing beneath her as he whisks her towards the back doors. Suddenly he pushes her body away from him and she stumbles heavily to the floor; her hips hits the marble-esque tiles first causing her to cry out in pain,

"Looks like I won't need the gym tonight; since you are giving me such a good work out this morning Isabella."

The fall has obviously winded her and the breaths leave her mouth in gasps almost smothering her cries.

"Don't m…make me go b…back"

She whispers from the floor,

"I wouldn't worry about that right now Isabella; you won't be going back there anytime soon."

The menace in his voice is clear and she shrinks back; cringing as the pain shoots through her hip. While his back is turned she attempts to stand once more; if it's going to end like this she has to give it everything she's got to try and get out of here now while she's so close to an exit. Scrambling across the floor she pushes herself as fast as she can; she gets only a few yards before strong hands cover her mouth and pull her back swiftly,

"Oh sweet Isabella; where do you think you are going?"

Leaning in close he whispers threateningly into her ear,

"I'd get this escaping idea out of your head; and quickly. Otherwise your life is going to become more than a little uncomfortable; I've been good to you so far, I can change that at any point. I have the power; don't test me."

His hands do little to stem the sobs rising from her chest and he drags her backwards across the floor as she stumbles and struggles against him once more; her eyes are wide with fear as two men suddenly burst through a nearby door.

"Ah; boys, good timing. If one of you could be so kind as to lace together Miss Swan's hands; I would be so very grateful."

The taller man gets to work finding an adequate form of wrist binding while the other seems to already have his instructions and begins to make his way to the door behind them. It's all she can take; her eyes close and she succumbs to their demands once more.

Her hands are bound in front of her and she is lead forward,

"It's nice to see you lose your spirit once more; let us hope this time you continue to obey."

He states as he pulls her through a door,

"You'll probably want to watch your step down here Isabella."

They begin their dissent into the cellar of the house; she cannot help but open her eyes and see where they are headed. It is so dark and a lot damper than the first cell she was confined to. They traverse the corridors below the house; her fear rising with every step they take deeper into the recesses of the house,

"Nearly there now."

It's almost like he's talking to himself now.

The hall eventually opens out into a set of rooms; one of which the door is held open slightly. Inside there are a series of small cages; it's the only way her brain can make sense of them.

"Welcome to your new home Isabella; I'm hoping while you are down here you can begin to learn some respect."

At the far end sits the smallest cell; he pulls her through the door and towards it at a rapid pace,

"Hold the door open please, and prepare the chains."  
>He rattles off instructions to one of the other men in the room and waits with her for them to complete them before herding her inside.<p>

She sits on her knees with her eyes to the floor. Her hands are unclasped and chained through the top of the cage; while her feet are chained to the back. Finally they cover her mouth with tape for a gag. She hears the squeak of the door and a lock is placed to inhibit her escape.

"I gave you freedom before; you'll have to earn that back with time. For now this is your home; you'll be fed, as always, but until I feel you've deserved it this is where you will stay."

The speech falls on deaf ears as she chooses to shut herself off from his threats. The door slams shut and her shoulders slump in defeat. She was so close to freedom; so close she could feel it, and yet so far.


	16. Chapter 16

Well; this is it, back to the point at which we begun. From harrowing to hope; I promise. No more major sad, just recuperation.

If you hate me for it; I'm sorry…if you are still with me; here goes nothing.

…

Chapter 15

Drip…

…drip…

…drip…

The stale air permeates every surface in the dank prison. Wind rips through shallow walls chilling to the bone and causing chains to rattle helplessly against metal bars. Water filters through hollows of broken cement rolling down the already sodden brick and falling relentlessly upon a small shadow.

In the distance a heavy door slams. The shadow shakes. Chains pull upon unforgiving metal in an attempt to break free. It's futile. Shaking increases and already stunted breathing becomes more ragged, hidden behind badly placed duct tape.

Footsteps, heavy boots banging steadily upon floorboards, become closer in proximity. Another door creaks open and slams. This time it's nearer.

Just one squeak escapes. Eyes close tight; anticipating the worst. Fists clench almost in prayer as the closest door slowly opens to reveal the illuminated figure previously concealed. He pauses, not taking the first steps.

A tear falls mingling with the droplets of rain water.

He takes the step.

Chains pull harder against ravaged skin. Breathing deepens. Skin fails and tears slightly against the harsh metal of the wrist guards and allows blood, the tiniest amount, to roll down shaking arms.

One more step.

She inhales deeply; taking a gulp of air allowing another small noise to escape the larynx. The ball she's in becomes as small as possible when chains prevent arms being pulled in. Head is turned against the wall; eyes still squeezed shut.

Another slow precise step is taken.

More tears fall. Legs tense underneath the tiny hunched form; pulling on yet more movement inhibiting shackles.

The door is further pushed open shedding more light upon the shadow. Another figure gently steps onto the stoned floor of the constructed jail. Two sharp breaths vibrate and are swallowed by the dark.

Pale arms seem to glow in the new light; suspended from the bars of a small caged cell in the right hand corner of the prison. The beginnings of a face are visible from this angle. The fresh scar only highlights the rest. Covered; that's the word. Some look angry, infected and sore. Some look old. All are uncared for.

She shakes at an alarming rate. A chest that should rise and fall steadily stumbles and stutters through ragged breaths. The gag, barely visible from the painful angle at which she is twisted, prevents any real intake of air. The sound of air forced through patent plastic is sharp.

There are more steps taken; this time they are less tentative and more resolved. The steps have an aim.

Movement in the cage almost ceases. She holds a breath; unwilling to make even the slightest shift that could provoke another scar. One that isn't self-imposed. Fists clench impossibly tight in an attempt to hold her slight frame steady.

Steps terminate close to their intended destination. A breath is taken in preparation for speech. One word falls from disconsolate lips and echo in the dark…

…'Bella'…

Her head snaps up in recognition and her eyes snap up; opening and allowing him to see the tears falling briskly.

Sometimes your prayers don't go unanswered.


	17. Chapter 17

For the moment you've all been waiting for; our hero's grand return. I hope you enjoy.

…..

Chapter 16

It only takes a second as they contemplate each other; her weak form is still hunched small where she lies incarcerated. In an instant he pushes himself towards her; the pull is always present.

"Bella…I'm so sorry…"

The whisper falls through the dark; her head shakes in return. She doesn't want his apology; she just wants to get out of this place. He's here now; at the moment that is all that matters. Her attempts at pulling her hands away from the shackles, still futile for the moment, seem to become erratic and he is finally spurred into action.

The metal bends, curls and disintegrates beneath his hands like feeble paper as he begins to free her from the cage holding her. Before she can even relax he's collected her up in his arms and she's cradled against him tightly. One hand comes up slowly; he strokes her cheek softly before running a finger along the edge of the acrid plastic still sealing her mouth,

"I'm going to take this off; I'm sorry, I don't want you hurt but I don't want to see you like this. It'll be ok; I promise"

His voice is barely above a whisper; an attempt to bring her comfort before he, slowly for him, tears the material from her lips. The noise echoes off the walls and she screws her eyes shut as her skin protests meekly at the pull of the cheap glue on the reverse of the tape. The residue of the irritant has left a harsh red rash; it looks raw against the rest of the pale skin of her face.

His fingers resume their comforting rub against her sore lips and she sighs against him; her eyes open once more and she brings a hand to his. She's making sure he's still real; though he doesn't know it. He bends his head to place a swift kiss to her forehead and they start to finally move towards the exit of the room that will contain her no longer. This time she knows she'll make it outside.

He starts to talk to another person but she simply rests against him; her face residing in his neck for the time being. The journey along the familiar corridors haunts her; last time it didn't end well. She shies away from it by shielding herself in him; not allowing herself to watch their steps down the hall and into the first sitting room. She knows where they are and where they are going; this is enough without bringing back the memories of panic from her fruitless attempt at an escape.

The despair hits her; even though she knows she is free there is a little part of her that resents her inability to look out for herself, but she cannot help but be grateful that he came for her.

The light penetrates her vision slowly as she opens up to the outside world once more; she has no clue as to how long she's been locked away in various places but now she knows that it is important to be aware. The brightness is unnerving at first, her eye lids allow it to penetrate but she doesn't lift her head for the moment.

When she does the full view of the gardens lay stretched out in front of her; if she had got this far she now doubts her ability to run free of the grounds. They seem to run for miles; the rolling fields and forest seem never-ending. The gasp that leaves her lips forces Edward to stop briefly and look down; instinctively she glances up and catches his eyes. Her breathing falters.

She'd never seen him look so full of shame and hurt; he had always maintained a semi maudlin state even when they had been excessively happy together, but he had never seemed so sad. Her hand reaches up to caress his face; still in shock she runs her fingers carefully along the ridge of his defined jaw line before roaming up and along his cheek. His eyes soften slightly as he relaxes into her touch; in this moment she can almost forget all the horrors she's been subjected to. They free each other more than they could have ever known; but she still doesn't know any of his motivations so she tries to keep her emotions in check. For now she is simply glad he is here and that she need not face her captors anymore.

The sudden remembrance of those men jolts through her like lightning. Part of her hopes they are no longer alive to cause and inflict plain upon anyone else; but the other part of her doesn't want to stain Edward's hands with any more blood and guilt.

She takes a breath; wets her lips with her tongue and prepares to speak,

"C…can I…"

She coughs,

"…can I go d-down? Just for a m-moment?"

She wants to feel the gravel beneath her feet; even if it is only for a second before they leave. She simply doesn't know when she'll get the chance to be in the fresh air once they're off this property; she is no longer naïve enough to believe that this rescue means she won't be sent back to another hospital, or even if she'll have the courage to leave the confines of wherever they're going to end up.

He looks at her for one moment; seeing the fear in her eyes but also the determination that lies there. She is so brave right now he cannot help but grant her wish. He keeps hold of her as her feet hit the ground; making sure that she is steady before simply gripping her elbow and allowing her, for the first time in a long while, to take a tentative step on real turf.

As the warmth hits her feet her hand fists in his shirt and her eyes close. She tugs a little on her arm as if to break free of his hold; she just wants to wonder a way on her own and he lets her, begrudgingly, leave his touch. As her arm slides free of his she stumbles but rights herself before padding her way over to the grass; the sun is warm on her cool skin and she falls to her knees to get close to the earth.

He watches her; moving when she does. As she drops to the ground he stutters forward as if to catch her before allowing it to happen; he knows he has no stake on her and he thinks perhaps she needs the confirmation of the reality of this moment. He's right; for once.

Time ticks by until he breaks the silence,

"Bella; we should…we should get moving"

Without really moving at all she nods and he makes his way over to her, lifting her gently into his arms once more and manoeuvring himself toward the car that has been waiting patiently for them. The doors open and he slides in across the seats; she isn't really paying attention to who else is accompanying them but she expects him to let her go once they're seated in the vehicle. He doesn't.

As she relaxes into him the car starts to move and her eyes drift shut; for now she is content to simply breathe him in and get as far away from this nightmare as she can.


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter 17

When she opens her eyes next she's lying in an opulent room surrounded by silk and cotton and wrapped in a familiar blanket. Curled up underneath; her breathing evens out as she stares at the small fibres of the fabric in front of her. There isn't really a memory of the journey home; mainly just bits of imagery here and there. The car twinned with the passing scenery and eventually the blur of the house as they travel through it to the room she currently occupies.

He hasn't been back, she doesn't think, since he placed her under the covers.

Her fingers make small circles on the bottom sheet as she contemplates what her future could hold now; she certainly isn't ready to face the outside world properly.

The door creeks open and the heavy footfalls make their way towards the bed and she hears the dragging of what is probably a chair; it's coming closer to where she is laid. Suddenly the bed dips slightly; not enough to be someone's full weight. She can see a slither of skin as the light penetrates through the top of the covers; she thinks it might be a hand.

Her digits reach out as if running on instinct and touch lightly at the cold skin that rests just above her resting head. It's progress. They make no more movement to get closer at this point; she is grateful. The hours tick by and the small comfort this brings her eases her fears minute by minute. She wonders, briefly, if he will say anything to her or whether they just need some time to bask in simply being.

It takes her a few moments to realise that they are now hand in hand and her blanket has slipped slightly to reveal her head; the instant the light hits she closes her eyes. Automatically she tugs him towards her; it's mostly the shock of the illumination but it causes him to instantly be at her side. This shift leaves her head in his lap and their hands remain intertwined. If she had her eyes fixed on him she would see the look of shock that now adorns his features; he does not move them and nor does she resist.

….

The light dips and the day gives way to night; they remain touching yet not speaking. Then she does something she hasn't felt like doing in a long while; she initiates conversation,

"You came…"

It isn't much; but it's a beginning, he smiles,

"Yes."

She still isn't sure about his motivation for saving her but at this time she doesn't want to discuss it; he's here and with her and that is what matters. She takes a deep breath; he hears it, she pushes up and, shakily, places her head against his chest. His arm snakes around her waist; she thinks he's supporting her weight, he isn't. He brings their joined hands up to rest against his chest directly in front of her face and whispers,

"Open your eyes, please Bella"

There is nothing left to do but obey; she sees their hands and she leans forward so softly that if he were human he may have not even felt it, and softly kisses the top of his fingers. The breath leaves her lungs quickly as she realises what she's done but he grasps her hand in his so she is unable to pull away from him; this is possibly the first time in a long while this doesn't cause her to seize up.

He can hear her heart take off in her chest as they sit so very still; before he has time to change his mind he lowers his head to run his nose through her hair; she swallows deeply and closes her eyes once more bending her head up slightly as she realises what he is doing.

His body is now angled so that he is leaning against the headboard with her laying over him; her ear resting against his solid chest and his chin resting, so gently, on the top of her head. Their palms remain unmoved, together.

The night is rolling on and he knows she must be so worn down; though it doesn't appear that she is dropping off,

"You should rest Bella."

Her head shakes against his chest

"You need sleep; please…"

More head shaking; he sighs

"What if this isn't real"  
>Her voice is so small and she seems to attempt to pull her body closer inwards as the words spill softly from her lips.<p>

There is no use making promises to her; he knows he hasn't earned the right to, yet. Instead he gathers her closer to his chest; his arms now cradling and rocking her small form,

"We can stay; just like this. I just want you to rest even if it's only for a couple of hours. Please"

Her mouth opens and closes like she's about to say something; but then she decides against it. The way her head now bobs against him tells him everything he wants to know; she'll sleep.

….

The dreams come thick and fast; the colours and shapes tangling into each other as it spirals down into depths of loss and despair before she screams herself awake; the tears are streaming down her face with a force he's never seen before and her choking sobs reverberate through him like an earthquake.

Her bloodshot eyes open and fall on her fist tightly scrunched in his, now damp, shirt. The rate at which her heart is racing surely isn't normal and she gasps in breaths to attempt to calm it whilst using the familiar comfort of his arms and cold touch to slow her brain.

They remain silent as she calms and he agonises. She can feel the tension in his tensed muscles as they surround her.

"I n-need the b-bathroom"

Her speech is stilted and breathless but he doesn't waste any time processing her request and as fast as she's spoken the words he's whipped her from the comfort of the bed and placed her in the en-suite toilet.

"I'll just wait outside"

He whispers as he leaves her and closes the door.

The moment the lock clicks shut her body drops from the toilet to the floor and she curls up; allowing the grief to take her as the sobs wrack her whole body. There is no point in trying to conceal it; she knows he'll hear every tear from where he waits but she needs to purge the horrid nightmare from her system.

Her bones begin to ache from lack of movement as she lies huddled on the tile floor yet she does not move; she simply curls up tighter. He stands and waits; hearing her cries rips through him and his head hangs low against his chest.

He wants to go to her; so badly, but he stands stock still by the door and allows her some private time to fall apart. His fingers twitch anxiously; he wants to have her in his arms where he can keep her safe once more. Over time he's sure he can prove that this is her reality and she won't awaken to the previous hell.

He hears her move around a little; she's covering her mouth in an attempt to stop the sobs from coming, he knows she's struggling with that as much as he is being separated from her. As he hears her shuffle and hit the wall of the room he can take it no more and peals the door open to reveal her shivering form huddled next to the bath.

His feet carry him fast, but not too fast, over to her; he no longer cares if he deserves to make these decisions he just cannot hear her like this. Reaching his hand out to hers he waits; he's here but the move to touch must be hers.

She shivers; her eyes are closed but she knows. They are just connected by some uncontrollable force; she wants to crawl inside herself but she can't resist him being so close and her hand automatically reaches for his.

The moment they touch her chest eases and her breathing regulates; he sinks down to her level and slowly gathers her up in his arms once more. He places himself on the edge of the bath; afraid that she did want to use the facilities but just didn't get the chance,

"Bella; did you…do you want…to…you know; use the bathroom?"

He's unsure; he's usually so up to date on these things, but with her he isn't and never will be. Her head shakes, no, she just wants to disappear. Instead she allows him to carry her back to bed.

Once they're safely deposited back in the bedroom once more and she is wrapped comfortably in the duvet she relaxes once more. He knows there are hard times ahead; questions they need to ask which only she can answer but, for now, she needs to establish a routine and be comfortable with him again. As she rests once more he whispers lowly apologies into her hair; as soon as she is well enough he'll speak the words to her, but for now he's happy to speak to her subconscious,

"I'm sorry; so sorry…I should have never left…"

And even more softly,

"I love you; forever…."


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter 18

"I love you"

It becomes a routine. He says it as she sleeps and she hears but isn't sure whether it is her subconscious trying to rest her tired mind. Day by day their hands snake closer together. She never sleeps alone anymore but always wrapped in his cold embrace.

Tonight will be no different; as the sun dips and flounders behind the wash of green she waits for him. Curled under the heavy duvet she hears the now familiar creek of the floor boards as he tentatively makes his way along the corridor of the upper level towards her door. As the handle slopes downwards and the wood flinches forward she sits up slightly; she's always nervous, still, that it won't be him but, as always, it is.

He notices her breath of relief as she begins to inhale properly once more and he hopes that one day she won't feel the need to doubt him. As he makes his way over to her delicate frame she pushes up to meet him; this is all a continuation of the routine. They won't touch just yet but the implication is there.

"Did you eat today Bella?"

He asks as usual.

"Yes"  
>She whispers in return; he knows she has only eaten a little but he won't push the issue, she has Alice for that.<p>

"Are you tired yet?"

She shakes her head and he acquiesces. He knows once he lays himself down beside her she'll fall under as soon as she's ready; he also knows that the nightmares will come as they always do and he will be unable to do anything about it.

Tonight she does something a little different. As she shifts and he lowers himself next to her she allows her hand to wander under his button down shirt. The tips of her fingers bristle against the smattering of hair that lies just below his bellybutton and his breathing ceases completely; he is waiting to see what move she will make next.

Her eyes are firmly closed; there is a certain amount of fear rattling around in her brain but she is determined to ignore it. A small part of her is sure he'll stop her soon; he doesn't.

Her fingers continue their journey as they deviate along his hip and then up, further under, until they reach a few ribs below the top of his chest. She rests there; the flat of her palm only twitching slightly as she takes in the feel of him against her. The cold of him against her hand is what keeps her grounded; something that flows through and connects them both allows her to be calm in his company.

They lie, touching, for some time and she seems to be resisting sleep tonight for longer than usual.

"Are you sure you don't want to sleep yet Bella?"

He asks; she shakes her head and relaxes back against him. Quietly and calmly her hand shifts, only slightly, before moving across the length of his chest. As her arm extends her head crawls further too; his brow furrows as he attempts to work out what her movement is trying to achieve.

"…Bella…"

Her head tips lightly and she opens her eyes to look up at him; there hasn't been much interaction between them since she's been back but there is a need now. Taking a deep breath she thinks over how she wants to put her next words to him before speaking,

"I…I just want t-to feel….um…t-touch you….sorry"

Fingers reach under cotton towards her now slightly clenched ones

"You don't have to say sorry for that; please, just tell me what you need…what you want"

His shirt has now ridden up to reveal small slivers of skin as he rolls his fingers down hers in an attempt to calm her a little more as her heart rate spikes. She knows what she wants, but she's afraid to ask for it,

"You can tell me…anything…"

Their hands link once more under his clothes,

"Y-your skin…I…I want to f-feel it…you don't have to"

Without thinking twice he moves her slightly to remove the fabric covering his upper body and pulls her back to him as he lays them back down. Immediately she finds purchase on any bit of skin she can; basking in the cool hard texture of him beneath her.

A calm quiet envelops them as the night wears on.

…

She stirs a little as light begins to filter in through the uncovered window; the cold has settled into her bones as she's slept but it isn't uncomfortable. It is the kind of cold that grips her in a positive way and she can feel his gentle breathing; she presumes he's watching her every move.

"You should sleep some more Bella"

There is nothing but concern in his voice; but there will be no more sleeping for her for now. The brilliant light of the dawn filters through the trees causing the most beautiful patterns to fall on the walls of the unlit room and she pulls herself up to take it in.

Her body seems to move independently of her brain as she pushes up from the bed and her unsteady legs carry her towards the window. His eyes never leave her form as she makes the short journey across the room,

"I want to go there"

Her finger points at the tree line out of the window; his eyes follow her as she crawls into the window seat and presses her palm flat against the glass.

Before she changes her mind she swivels her hips and marches towards the door of the bedroom; this will be the first time since she arrived here that she's been outside but she won't be stopped now. He whips himself off the bed and strides slightly behind her as she reaches the handle and stumbles

"I want to go out there"

She's worried he will deny her. He won't

"You can; you know"

Her hand trembles as she reaches for the handle; she's nervous. This will be a number of firsts in one go and it is a lot to take in. Edward pauses and lets her make her own mind up; ultimately he knows she'll gather the courage if she really wants to. It's all in her hands.

As soft skin meets cold metal she knows there is no turning back at she powerfully clicks the knob and pushes back the wooden door with a creek. The house is silent around them as the pair makes their way, together, through the halls to the main front door where she is bought to a standstill once more. This is the final barrier and without the distraction and threat of reprimand she carefully pushes open the glass back door and gently places a tentative step onto the slate of the outside staircase.

"I should get you some shoes"

He quietly observes as she fully immerses herself in the brisk sunrise glowing over the garden,

"N-no…please…I j-just want to f-feel…"

Her words trail off as she quickens her pace towards the beginnings of the small forest growing at the far end of the delicate garden. Once more he lets her go although the urge to make her put something on her feet is great; he still doesn't feel comfortable being overbearing with her.

There is a small amount of space left between them now as she breaths deep; taking big gulps of the fresh air and allowing the morning sun to penetrate her pale skin. Face towards the heat the run of the trees seems more magical than it ever did before. The light filters through them and explodes onto the dense undergrowth of the forest floor; the colour seems more poignant and her brain is working a mile a minute to capture it all in those few seconds.

He simply leans back and watches her reactions with awe. There haven't been as many screams; as many tears through the night and it seems like she might be turning an important corner. Anything which brings such an enigmatic smile to her face will not be penetrated; but he knows soon he will have to broach the subjects she has managed to repress. For now he allows her to simply be.

"I missed the sun"

It's barely a whisper of an observation as she closes her eyes to feel the atmosphere around her,

"I missed you…"

Lower still; but he hears, he hears everything and she knows.

"God I missed you too…I…Bella I…"

Her hands form tight fists at her sides but from her face you wouldn't be able to tell anything had changed. She holds her breath; though she doesn't know why or what she's waiting for, probably another disappointment but she does not want to dwell on that when she has her freedom.

"…I made the most massive mistake leaving you…"

The force of the words, though delivered so delicately, knocks her to her knees and she fills her lungs with a huge shuddery breath. She really didn't want to cry but the tears are inevitable as she falls apart at the mere concept of him missing her all this time. She wants to ask why; she wants to pound on his chest and scream at him for losing precious moments together and she wants to know why it took so long to recover her, but mainly she wants his arms wrapped around her.

As if in reflex hers curl around herself as she huddles, still sobbing, on the short grass not focusing on anything but the blurs of colour created by her tears. His fingers pulse and twitch; he wants to, so badly, he wants to fall beside her and pull her warm form into his cold one never letting her go. He's scared.

Instead of saying a number of things that spring to mind; there is only one thing that leaves her lips in this most delicate moment,

"God I love you"

Whether he reciprocates or not doesn't matter; the words for her are and will always be the truth. He isn't sure an ordinary human pair of ears would have picked up the disfigured words that leave her through racking sobs; but he doesn't have ordinary ears and at this his body relinquishes control from his brain and he, quick as a flash, is by her side with her cradled against him.

The force of this reunion causes something greater than anything they can possibly explain afterwards to occur. Her tears subside, briefly, and wrapped around each other, on a cold autumn morning the two lost souls allow their lips to meet in an uncontrollable moment of passion.

"I love you too; so much Bella"

This time she knows she heard him.

Consumed by this need they become one once more in an unbreakable kiss.


End file.
